


A Lesson In Patience: Stormheim

by Shaymed, Soule



Series: A Lesson in Patience [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Death Knight, Demon Hunters, F/M, Gen, Mages, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:19:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 160,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10541013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soule/pseuds/Soule
Summary: When Archmage Khadgar tasks his apprentice, Anarchaia, with gaining favor with the Valarjar, she and Grimory seek travel companions to help complete the mission. Paired with death knights Koltira Deathweaver and Alisbeth Redblade, they journey through Stormheim. One complication after another within their team leaves them wondering if maybe the real mission is not killing each other before reaching Odyn.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/  
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

“So, what is this for again, and why do I need to be here for it?” Grimory asks, taking the parchment from Anarchaia's hands and glossing it over with radiant emerald eyes.

The mage snatches the paper back from him and scowls beneath her mask. “Master Khadgar says we should get a head start on gaining favor with the Valarjar. I figured consulting Odyn himself would be a good start. But we're going to need help.”

Grimory scoffs and folds his arms, tapping the toe of his boot on the log bench outside the dirt circle they'd made - a makeshift arena. “I don't see why. We've handled Suramar pretty well so far.”

Anarchaia rolls her eyes secretly. “Suramar doesn't have Gods to appease.” She looks over the list in her hands. “Looks like only a few people signed up. We'll have to see if they'll be deadweight or not before bringing them along. The first couple of applicants should be here shortly...”

Coins clink behind Grimory before a small “Thanks,” is whispered. A brush moves separately from the wind, then all goes still again.

“Give it back.”

A female blood elf steps into the arena, jaw clenched and cool eyes settled on Grimory. “Sorry.” She drops the pilfered coin in the dirt at his feet. She settles on one hip and purses her lips as she inspects the two, then sighs, clearly unimpressed with what she sees. “Okay, look, I only signed up because Asheeda wanted to do this and she's not all that great at...being good. Or sociable. As for me, just stay out of my way.” She inspects her fingernails, bored with the situation. “Or don't. Easier to stab things in the back when they're distracted by idiots with the stealth of a Tauren in a minefield.”

“Pass,” Grimory immediately says through a fang-filled scowl, not bothering to pick up his own money.

Anarchaia ignores him and glances around the trees above, searching for the second figure. “It's going to take a little more than an interview for us to come to a decision.” She stands and pushes her hood back over her shoulders. “If you want a position on our team— _and_ your pay—you'll have to prove you can hold your own in a fight.” Her eyes continue scanning the leaves. “Both of you.”

“Come on out, Asheeda. I told you, she's shy.”

A male blood elf steps from the trees. His hair is ivory with a pearlescent sheen, cropped short and well-groomed between the two curling horns on his head. His skin is a dark red and cracked in an almost scaled effect. His face is clean shaven, but small spikes have broken through the skin at his jaw, cheeks, and forehead. Aside from his black blindfold the only thing he wears is charcoal black mini-shorts. “He,” he says to the rogue.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, he. Sorry.” She leans to whisper to the other two. “Just got the procedure. I'm still not used to it.”

He flashes a charming grin at the others. “Call me Ash, please.” He takes Anarchaia's hand and pulls it up to kiss the top. “And you are?” His eyes don't move from her mask.

Grimory's scowl deepens and he spits on the soil, his arms tightening around his chest.

Anarchaia blinks and flushes beneath her covering, too taken aback by the elf's boldness to pull her hand away. “Uh...Anarchaia,” she responds, clearly flustered. She clears her throat. “A pleasure.”

Asheeda smiles wider. “Beautiful name.”

The rogue scoffs. “It was weird when you flirted with girls before. I thought it would be less weird now, but it's not.” She turns to Grimory “Look, I have a raid to get to. You know, saving Azeroth and all that while you guys are out here...” She looks around and sneers. “Playing in the dirt? So, can we make this snappy?”

Grimory pulls his ears back as a cat would and narrows his eyes. He glances from the Illidari to the woman, not bothering to hide his irritation as much as she hasn't. “If you don't have time for this then perhaps you should go prepare for that.”

Anarchaia gently pulls her hand away and gives an awkward chuckle. “You're too kind.” Her attention flicks to the woman as well. “And despite how rude my friend is, he does have a point. This endeavor could take weeks, even months. Are you sure you're committed to that kind of timeframe?”

The rogue folds her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at Grimory. “Maybe I will.”

Asheeda frowns. “But, 'Nu, you promised!”

She sneers. “I did. You're right. I'm sure Liv will understand.”

“Bros before hoes!” Asheeda pulls the rogue into a tight hug.

“Oh. Oh gods, no, I'm not your bro. Stop it. This is not okay.” She slips an arm free to grab one of the jawbone daggers on her back and hook it into Asheeda's horn. The demon hunter releases her and she swings around, using his horn as a grapple, then lands behind him and kicks him in the rear. “ _Don't_ hug me.” She points at the other two. “Got it?”

“Shouldn't be a problem,” Grimory grumbles.

Anarchaia rolls up the parchment and sends it away in a billowing cloud of purple smoke. “Look, guys, we have other people lined up for this job who'll be here soon, so if you're still interested...”

“I am!” Asheeda shouts. He tucks the rogue under his arm to keep her from objecting. “She is, too. Just ignore her. I'm sure it's just too much time in the sewers. Please, I really want to see the land and meet the people. Take notes and samples. I hear there's a rare weed in the wilds and I'd love to be able to study its properties...see its usefulness.”

She shoves out from his arm. “Flower-picking tree-hugger.” She punches his arm. “Whatever. Fine. I'm in. When do we start?”

“Grim,” Anarchaia mentions pointedly, motioning him into the ring with a finger and without a glance.

Grimory bristles, his shoulders raising. “What? Why me?”

“I'm a lover, not a fighter,” Anarchaia quips with a grin that no one can see.

“Ain't that the truth,” he mutters, then sighs when her head quickly jerks to look in his direction. “I'm going,” he grumbles and steps into the arena. “You gotta beat me, I guess.” His hands and forearms mutate into large, clawed appendages so black they seem to suck in all light. The nails at the tips of his fingers glow yellow and leave streaks of light in their wake when he moves. “So, who's first?”

The rogue steps back. “Uhh... I think this one is yours, Ash.” She pats him on the back.

Asheeda stumbles backward, shoving the rogue forward. “No, no, I think he's all yours, Crorinu.”

“You're the one with the demon blood in you!”

“You've got the Kingslayers!” They argue for a minute before Asheeda finds himself in the ring, standing on the outer edge looking sheepish with a nervous grin. “Hi, uh, Grim? She said your name was? Hi. See, I didn't think this was going to be something with a lot of fighting and I really just wanted to do research in Stormheim, so...”

“Shut up!” Crorinu hisses and pushes him forward with her boot. “Just demon out or something.”

“Demon out?” he growls.

“Yeah do the thing with the claws like that guy.”

“I can't _do_ that. I didn't _train_ for that.”

“Well where are your glaives?” she demands. He looks into the bushes. “You are the worst, Asheeda. The absolute worst.” She stomps into the trees to retrieve the weapons.

Asheeda purses his lips and rocks awkwardly. “I'm really not a fighter.”

Grimory lets his arms fall to his sides and groans inwardly. “You don't say,” he grunts, his eyes half-lidded and unamused.

Anarchaia sets herself down upon the log and props her chin in a palm. “That'll have to change if you want to come where we're going. You can at least defend yourself properly, no?”

Crorinu shoves the glaives into Asheeda's fists. He twirls them over his head and in front of him in a show of dexterity. “Yeah, sure. I can do that.” Asheeda stands at the ready, his face set, though his eyes betray his fear.

Grimory scoffs and lunges forward with a speed unfit for his size. He swipes at his fellow demon hunter with his massive claws, aiming for the man's face.

“Don't actually hurt them!” Anarchaia calls from the back.

Asheeda crosses his glaives over his face and ducks, using Grimory's own momentum to launch him over and behind. Asheeda spins and readies again, hoping luck remains on his side.

Stopping so abruptly he nearly stumbles, Grimory growls loudly and turns, sweeping low in hopes of at least disabling the more agile man.

Asheeda flinches, expecting to be tackled. Instead he screams out as the flesh at his right shin is torn open in three long gashes. He leaps backward, quickly inspecting the damage and determining he can continue.

“I'll get your pack,” the rogue says, then sprints into the bushes once more.

Asheeda purses his lips and re-crosses the glaives in front of him. “That all you got?”

Grimory straightens and gives a kind of snort, flicking the blood off his nails and onto the soil. “No, but I was told not to hurt you.” He ignores the distant call of 'a little late for that!' from the sidelines. “You ever gonna attack or just bob and weave?” He clenches a huge fist and drills a blow toward the center of the crossed blades.

“I was told I only had to—” he leaps backward away from Grimory, “defend myself.” He flinches as the demon fist makes contact with his glaives, but only just a bump since he'd jumped out of reach.

Crorinu zips back out of the trees and tosses a healing salve high in the air toward Asheeda. He catches it and holds it in his fist, waiting for an opportune moment to use it on his injury.

Grimory recovers with an attempted—albeit weaker—blow with the opposite fist. “Real enemies aren't going to have the patience for a defensive opponent, you know. If they're stronger they'll overpower you as quickly as possible.”

Anarchaia watches intently from the sidelines, bobbing her foot beneath her robes.

Grimory's fist bumps against Asheeda's shoulder. “Ha!” he says, “That kinda tickled.”

“Would you quit being a pussy and do something?” Crorinu growls.

As fast as he can move, Asheeda smears the salve over his shin. His bleeding stops as the wound begins to heal. Emboldened by his friend, he lunges forward to attack Grimory head on.

Grimory winces as the blade buries itself into the forearm he'd used to defend himself, then grins devilishly. Blood dribbles from the wound and joins the rest in the dirt. “You'll have to do better than that.” He shoots a quick glance at Anarchaia before bringing his free hand up in a slicing motion, attempting to disarm the man. His eyes smolder with excitement.

Asheeda attempts to leap backward, but he's too slow. Grimory's hand knocks the glaive from his right fist as the other’s claws tear deep gashes into Asheeda's forearm. Flesh tears away to expose bone beneath. The injured demon hunter cries out in pain, dropping his other glaive to the ground to grip his arm.

“You son of a bitch!” Crorinu cries. She steps through the shadows to come up instantly behind Grimory, her daggers drawn and ready to slice into his spine.

The earth below is sprayed with blood and Grimory's cry of agony causes any roosting birds to take flight. He turns to counter his attacker, but the pain in his back makes him tremble and stumble to a knee. His breathing becomes ragged as he struggles to stand. “Two on one... Playing dirty...”

“All right, I've seen enough!” Anarchaia jumps to her feet and makes toward the trio. “I told you not to injure them!” she scolds Grimory, her fists clenched at her sides.

Crorinu grips her daggers tight in her fists as she stands over Asheeda, shielding him. “He told you he's _not_ a _fighter_!” She points a bloodied dagger at Anarchaia. “Come on, little girl. Why don't you hop in the ring and I'll show you the same courtesy.”

Asheeda stands and nudges Crorinu with his shoulder. “Just get my bag. I'll be fine. I made extra potions.” He turns his grimace on Grimory. “Plenty to share.”

Anarchaia glowers at Crorinu from behind her mask and helps Grimory to his feet. “Thanks so kindly for the invitation but I'll pass,” she hisses. “And that's very generous of you, Mr. Asheeda. We appreciat—”

“I don't need—”

Anarchaia presses her palm over Grimory's mouth. “Shut up. You got yourself into this, now I'm getting you out.”

Asheeda steps around Crorinu, but she stops him. “I'll get it.” She shakes the blood from her daggers and sheaths them on her shoulders. When the rogue returns with the pack, Asheeda rips it from her grip and digs inside to produce two vials of healing tonic.

“It tastes like ass and burns going down. But it'll get him back on his feet in a minute.” He hands one to Anarchaia, then downs his own in a few gulps. He coughs and tosses the bottle back into his pack.

The rogue glares down at Anarchaia. “I don't know what you think you're getting yourselves into, but tearing apart your allies will not accomplish the job.”

Anarchaia thanks Asheeda gratefully and uncorks the vial, then shoves it into Grimory's mouth when he opens it to retort. She shoots the rogue a scowl. “I'm not his mother,” she barks. “Don't blame me for his recklessness.”

Grimory chokes on the rancid concoction, but grits his teeth when his wounds begin to smoke, the skin crawling back over the flesh.

“We don't need more reckless people in our group.” Anarchaia releases her friend as he slowly straightens his back. “He's a handful enough.” She begins digging in the pouch behind her belt, searching for gold to pay for the potion.

Asheeda wraps his hand around Anarchaia's. “It's not necessary.”

“But—” Crorinu stares longingly at the mage's purse.

The demon hunter glares up at his friend. “We're not here for your gold. I wanted to explore. I guess I need to learn to take the danger with the research. Get my nose out of the books, right?”

Anarchaia retracts her hand slowly, her irritation giving way to sympathy. “I'm sorry, Ash.” She smiles despite knowing no one can see. “Those potions of yours are impressive. Grim's already better.”

Grimory stretches his back, his hands - now returned to their original state - on his lower back. He scowls.

“Perhaps we can keep in touch. I'd love to buy more of them from you whenever possible.” Anarchaia's grin widens. “And maybe help you in your research sometime.”

He smiles eagerly, charm overtaking him since the healing of his wounds. “I would greatly enjoy that, so long as I get to see you again.”

“Oh, barf,” Crorinu scoffs. “Let's beat it, chica. If we hurry we can make Thunder Totem by nightfall. Do something less detrimental to your health.”

Asheeda rolls his eyes. “Yeah, _chica_.”

“You're still my girl. Still wearing my shorts, anyway.”

Asheeda bristles. “They're comfortable.”

Anarchaia flushes and waves a hand. “Don't be a stranger, friend.”

“Ugh,” Grimory grunts, checking his forearm for scars. “Get a room.”

The mage whirls around and slaps him hard I the chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?! I told you not to hurt him!”

He flinches but feels no pain. “I didn't mean to,” he grumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

Asheeda snorts a laugh and digs into his bag as Crorinu heads into the bushes. “Here. On the house.” He sets five more potions on the ground in front of Anarchaia. “Take care of yourself.” He takes her hand to kiss the top again.

“BARF!” Crorinu yells from atop a restless zhevra, the reins of a curious purple runesaber in her hand.

“I won't bring her next time,” Asheeda whispers, winking at Anarchaia. He slings his pack over his shoulder and hops onto the runesaber. “Maybe one day I'll beat you, Grim.”

Anarchaia gives another hearty thanks and places a palm over her cheek. “Take care!” Her roster scroll reappears in her other hand.

“Yeah, don't count on it.” Grimory saunters over to rest atop the log bench, clearly bitter. “Not without help from your girlfriend again, at least.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

“Looks like...a couple of Death Knights are up next. Koltira and Alis...beth?” The vials on the ground levitate upward in a cloud of purple glitter before disappearing one-by-one into nothingness. She pauses. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“WHY DIDN'T YOU KILL HIM, YOU PUSSY!?!” A woman screams from the trees. Another female blood elf bursts out, frosty eyes wild with excitement. “That was so cool! You were just like GRAW, BLAGH—” She jumps around, slashing at the air in a clawing motion.

“A-Alisbeth, what did I say?” A male blood elf with frosty blue eyes joins her.

She sobers. “Stay quiet and let you do the talking.”

“Yes. Exactly.” He turns to the other two and gives a friendly smile. “Hello, I'm Kol—”

“OH MY GODS!” Alisbeth screams, dropping to her knees.

Koltira flinches and tries to wrestle the chunk of cracked red flesh from Alisbeth's hands.

She bats him away. “I could start a demon hunter suit with this!” She wraps it over her forearm. “On guard!” She holds out the flesh-covered arm at Grimory. “Did you lose any? Can I have it? I can cut some—”

Koltira grabs the flesh and throws it on the ground. He wraps his fingers over the top of her breastplate and shoves her away to growl at her. “Alisbeth. You promised.”

“Yeah. I did.”

 “So...?”

“But it's—”

“Ali,” he warns.

Alisbeth pouts for a second. “Okay.” She kicks her heel into the dirt and folds her arms over her chest. “Go do the talking, then.”

Koltira turns, his smile a little tighter. “I'm Koltira Deathweaver. This is my... This is Alisbeth Redblade.”

Anarchaia backs away quickly from the newcomers, the scroll in her hand disappearing once again. “Oh,” she says, recovering from the startle. “It's the couple from Krasus' Landing.”

Grimory glances up at the sound of Alisbeth's voice, flashbacks of that day coming to his mind's eye. “Oh. Yeah.” He reflexively rubs at the point where his horn connects with his scalp.

Alisbeth wraps an arm around Koltira's waist and shoves her head under his arm, keeping her cheek to the armor at his side as she stares at the other two. “Why does he have horns?” she whispers.

Koltira sighs, rolling his eyes to the sky as a plea for patience. “I told you last time, he's a demon hunter.” He turns his attention on Grimory and gives a small, sideways smile. “Yeah, I thought I recognized you two. Sorry about last time. She gets...excited.”

“Sure,” Grimory mutters, running fingers through his hair. “Whatever.”

“I'm Anarchaia,” the mage responds, a hand over her slim chest, “and my moody friend is Grimory. But let's get down to business while we still have sunlight. We're testing applicants on their ability to hold their own in combat while exuding signs of teamwork. So whenever either of you are ready Grim will—”

“No. This one's yours.”

Anarchaia's spine stiffens and she throws him a glance. “Don't be such a baby. You're healed, now, aren't you? Plus, it's not my fault you can't listen to instructions.”

Alisbeth smiles. “Oh, I wanna do it! Pick me!”

“If you want to determine our level of teamwork you should take us both. Hard to see how someone cooperates when you single them out. For example, that rogue showed excellent teamwork, staying in the running for a friend and jumping in to help him when things got too rough.” Koltira shrugs. “But it's not my call to make.”

“Pick me!”

Koltira chuckles. “If you do single us out, I think Ali might want to get in the ring. I'm not sure, though. You'd have to as—”

“ME ME ME!” She waves her hand over her head and jumps up and down on her tip-toes.

“If I'm being honest, I just didn't like that woman's attitude,” Anarchaia whispers to the two, a hand shading the side of her mouth. She then sighs. “And I guess it'll be you and me, Ms. Redblade. Because my partner can't handle a couple of scratches.”

Grimory bitterly gives Anarchaia a rude gesture behind her back.

Alisbeth widens her eyes at Grimory. “ _Rude!_ ” She nudges Koltira. “I wanted to fight him, why don't I get to fight him?”

“Because you're fighting the mage.” He whistles and a crimson deathcharger ambles to him. Koltira takes his green-bladed sword from one side as Alisbeth grabs a silver axe with a spiked, round head; a screaming skull embellishes the middle, red mist oozing from the open mouth. Koltira takes her axe.

“Ooo, I get to use the Redblade?”

“No.” He returns her axe to the saddle and pulls out a wide wooden sword. “You get to use this.”

Alisbeth sticks out her lower lip. “That's not fair.”

“Maybe not, but you're not having another accident.”

“It was just the one time!”

Koltira shakes his head. “Since you were resurrected. What about that paladin you threw your sword at because he disagreed with you on battle strategies?”

“Esmond. He was an idiot when he was younger.”

“How about the time you cut _me_ open?”

Alisbeth rolls her eyes dismissively. “And I healed you and got you back to the temple in one piece. And if I remember right, that was the only reason you kissed me the first time. So, I don't think it should count.”

Koltira slides his gaze to the mage. “Sorry. You're waiting so patiently. She's ready.”

“But I still have a hunk of wood!”

He leans in to whisper, keeping his smile on the mage. “Quiet or I'll take that, too.”

“It's fine,” she responds, parting her feet slightly. “Ready when you are.”

“Be careful,” the demon hunter mutters under his breath, still rubbing at his forearm.

“Ready?” Koltira asks.

Alisbeth casts a disappointed sneer down at the wooden weapon, then nods.

Koltira kisses the side of her head then steps away from the ring to stand near Grimory. “I didn't catch your name,” he says.

Alisbeth picks at a splinter on the wooden blade. “Ready when you are, I guess. Ooo, fear my stick.” She scrunches half her face in annoyance.

“Grimory.” The Blood Elf's green gaze gives the other a wary once-over. “You?”

Anarchaia scuffs her boot along the dirt and a torrent of fire bursts forth in the same direction, gathering mass as well as momentum as it heads toward Alisbeth.

“Koltira,” he extends his hand for a friendly shake.

Alisbeth smiles with glee. “Ooo! Pretty!” She throws a red shell around herself and stands in place as the fire sweeps over her. Her eyes dart around to catch every glimmering flame. When it passes, she licks her thumb and forefinger to extinguish a small fire at the tip of a clump of hair. “That was _so_ cool! Do it again!”

“Ali,” Koltira warns, “You're not ready for another pass like that. Pace yourself. Counterstrike.”

“Oh. Right.” Alisbeth crouches low and runs toward the mage, throwing down a ring of red decay under Anarchaia’s feet.

Grimory grasps the other's hand firmly in his own and shakes reluctantly. “A pleasure.”

Anarchaia hisses at the pain that shoots up through her body from her feet. She blinks a few yards behind Alisbeth, still cringing. “If you insist.” She sends another wave of flames in the girl's direction, this time with more conviction and power.

Koltira barks a short laugh. “Judging by your facial expression when you saw us, you're lying.”

 “Uh-uhh... Kolty!” Alisbeth shouts, staring up at the wave of flames. “You were right, I'm not ready, what do I do?”

“Move your damn feet, Ali!”

Alisbeth cringes, concentrating on fortifying her defenses. She grows a few sizes larger, then leaps out of the path of the fire, a single boot getting caught in the wave. She buries her toes into the dirt to smother the little sparks still clinging to the plate. The death knight reaches her hand out, a purple tendril snakes through the air toward the mage, plucking her from the ground and dropping her in front of Alisbeth. She swings the wooden sword, aiming for Anarchaia's neck.

Anarchaia winces once more as the wood makes contact with her muscle. The fake blade continues passing through her, however, as her body phases into a flurry of cinders. She reappears a few yards away once again, rubbing her shoulder in pain. A large apparition of a dragon's head materializes above her and, at her cue, sends forth a cloud of flames from its maw.

Grimory watches the fight intently, his elbows on his knees and toe tapping. “You sound offended. Should it be a pleasure?”

Alisbeth dodges back out of the flames' reach, holding up the broad side of the wooden sword over her face to dampen the heat. She reaches out a hand; shadows spiral around the mage's neck and hoist her into the air. “Shh.” Alisbeth smiles and runs forward, readying a sweeping blow that would hit the mage at her waist.

Koltira's fists clench in anticipation as he watches the two. “It's a pleasure if you want it to be, but I'd rather just call you on your bullshit. Say what you mean, my friend. If it pisses someone off, then make sure you make the first move and that they aren't getting up anytime soon.” He flinches as Alisbeth pulls back her arm, knowing full well the strength of her swing is much more than it seems her small figure could deliver.

Anarchaia grins beneath her mask, grasping at the tendrils about her throat. Using what strength she has, the mage kicks her legs up and out of the way, dodging the swing completely. Knowing she's unable to use magic, she brings her boots back down hard toward the Death Knight's crown.

“You talk a lot,” Grimory grunts, giving Koltira a sideways glance. “That honest enough for you?”

Koltira sits on the log bench and delivers a devilish sideways grin. “It is possible to be both brains _and_ brawn, you know.”

Anarchaia's heels meet the back of Alisbeth's head. Her momentum from the missed swing and the impact sends her face-first into the dirt. Alisbeth lifts her filthy face and glowers, then spits a clod of mud from her mouth. She stomps closer to Koltira. “Give me my sword.”

He shakes his head. “No. We agreed I could keep Byfrost, and you're not using a real sword in a duel.” She spits at his feet and stomps back to the wooden sword. She swoops her arms around for an overhead strike on the mage.

Grimory turns his head towards the other man, returning the smirk. “Is that so? And who do you know who has both?” He glances up at Alisbeth as she approaches them both, charmed by her fervor in battle. The aspect of her using a potentially harmful weapon against his friend sends a twinge of apprehension through him but he says nothing.

Anarchaia ducks out of the way of the swinging blade, scurrying away and turning to put both hands up before the girl can make another attack. “All right, I yield. You're definitely skilled enough.”

Koltira smirks. “I'll let you know when I see them. Say, have you got a mirror?”

Alisbeth stops with the sword over her head, eyes wide and mouth open in a frown. “But...we were having fun! Weren't you having fun?” She throws the sword over the mage's head. “I thought you were having fun with me!”

Anarchaia shrinks back, bringing her hands to her chest defensively. “I don't like to fight.” She rubs at her shoulder, still sore. “And I need my arms.”

“Pretty sure you won't find one th—” Grimory leans away from the flying sword and scowls towards the girls' direction. “Hey, watch where you hurl things!”

“We were having _FUN_!” Alisbeth stomps to stand over the mage.

“Ali,” Koltira takes her wrist. “It's not a game. You won. Stand down.”

She purses her lips to think, then nods. “Wait, I won?”

Anarchaia clears her throat and brushes her robes. “Yes. And if you're both still interested, we leave tomorrow morning. Payment will be given at the time of completion otherwise partial payment can be arranged if you guys decide to duck out halfway through.”

Grimory stands and stretches, coming to stand at Anarchaia's side. “We'd obviously prefer you don't, though.” He picks up the coin that'd been stolen from him and flips it idly. “It should go smoothly with four.”

Koltira places himself beside Alisbeth. “I think I speak for us both when I say we are still interested.”

“Do I get to fight you now?” Alisbeth asks Grimory with a smile.

Grimory blinks down at Alisbeth before flashing a fang-filled grin. “Did you want to?”

Anarchaia claps her hands together once and tilts her head with a grin. “Good! We have a room at the inn down the road, here. You're both welcome to join us for a drink before we rest up for tomorrow. Maybe get to know one another...”

Alisbeth's smile widens. “Do you always fight with your claws out? Do I get to keep any piece of you I hack off as trophy? Can I use a real weapon? Can—”

“I think drinks sound wonderful,” Koltira replies, speaking loud to overlap Alisbeth

Anarchaia grasps Grimory by the belt and pulls him toward the trail before he can respond. “To the inn, then!” she calls, a finger to the sky. “Not far, just around the bend.”

The Demon Hunter follows behind, swatting her hand away from his waist.

Koltira releases a shrill whistle as he retrieves the wooden sword. His deathcharger follows him as he presents his arm to Alisbeth and she tucks her hand in the crook of his elbow.

“I want to fight the beast monster,” she says wistfully.

“Demon hunter.”

“Yeah. The big guy.”

He laughs and kisses the top of her head. “Of course you do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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“So what interested you two in this besides the money?” Anarchaia asks just as the faint glow of the inn's windows comes into view.She skips along at the front of their small group. “If there _is_ anything else, that is.”

Grimory trails behind the trio, fingers linked behind his head and tattoos glowing dimly in the shadows cast by what's left of the sun.

Alisbeth's eyes glow with interest as she continues to peek back at the demon hunter behind them. “There's money?”

 Koltira chuckles. “She wanted an adventure, so I found her an adventure.”

“I just have to behave myself or Mograine will lock me back up.”

Koltira sighs and speaks low to her. “Alisbeth, remember how I tell you there are things you should keep to yourself?”

“Yeah.” She scrunches her face up in a silly grin at Grimory. “Was that one of them?”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows down at the girl, clearly not listening. He returns the gesture with a slight smile.

Anarchaia wheels around on a heel. Walking backward, she folds her arms at the small of her back. Any emotion she shows only apparent in her voice, she says, “Is there...something we should know about before proceeding? I'd hate for something detrimental to come up at an inopportune time.”

“Nope! Nothing. I am without detriment,” Alisbeth insists. She leans in to whisper to Koltira. “See, I can keep things to myself.”

Koltira frowns nervously. “Not quite, but nice try.” He gives his attention to Anarchaia. “Nothing _major_ , per se.” His eyes shift nervously to Alisbeth, who keeps turning to make faces at Grimory. “Nothing we can't work around.”

Anarchaia hums reservedly, then whirls back around. “I'll take your word for it.” When they finally come upon the door to the inn and the quiet music and murmuring behind it, she holds the door open and ushers them inside. “Go and order some drinks. I have something to take care of real quick.”

Grimory's lip twitches as she whispers “And don't be an asshole” to him when he passes. He turns, wrenching the door from her grasp once the other two are safely inside, and, with a sarcastic grin, slams it shut.

Alisbeth eyes the drinks, biting at her lip as she bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“No,” Koltira says.

“But I—”

“No.”

Alisbeth grumbles and drops into a chair at a table to pout.

Grimory takes a seat across the table and hails a barmaid. “So you two are...together? I don't think I heard.” The tavern on the ground floor is sparsely populated by a couple of groups. The noise is low enough for him to speak at a comfortable tone. He orders a mead from the young, bubbly maid as she approaches, throwing her a charming smile.

“Whiskey, please. Three fingers,” Koltira says to the barmaid. “She'll have juice.”

“What kind?” the maid asks.

“Dalapeño,” Alisbeth grumbles. The barmaid looks nervously at her, unsure if she should laugh. “I'm serious.”

When the maid leaves Koltira leans back to make himself comfortable. “Well, we _are_ a team.”

“We're not supposed to tell people that—” Koltira grips her elbow and she stops and purses her lips. “Yeah, we're a team.”

Grimory tilts his head somewhat, resting his forearms on the tarnished wooden table. “I...see. All right, then.” He scratches at the connection point of one of his horns, clawing more for a conversation topic than at an actual itch. “So where are you guys from?”

Alisbeth perks up. “Oh! These are things I can talk about! I grew up in Stormwind. My father was a captain of the guard and my mother was a high priestess. She wanted me to be a priestess but my father wanted me to be a warrior, so they compromised and I became a paladin!”

“He asked where you're from, not your entire life story.”

“Right. So, then I lived in Lordaeron for several decades until Tirion took me to Silvermoon to be with my people. I was _supposed_ to go on the voyage to Northrend, but Tirion didn't want me to. He said he had a tingling feeling about it and... well, he was right. So then I went to Silvermoon where I met Koltira, but then the Lich King came and killed everyone and so I went to the Outlands with Kael'thas. I mean I wanted to go to Stormwind but it didn't quite happen that way...” She slides her glance at Koltira's impatient face. She bites her lips together and drums her hands on the table top. “Acherus. I'm from Acherus.”

As he listens, the maid returns with their beverages and sets his mead before him. Still fixed on Alisbeth and her story, he slowly grasps the stein and takes a long drink, a look of regret and concern plastered on his features. He takes another drink and swallows. “I see.” Grimory eyes Koltira. “The same for you I presume?”

Koltira sips his whiskey. “No. Silvermoon, Icecrown Citadel, Acherus. A few other places, but they were only short stays.”

“He was in Undercity for four years! I didn't even get to see him bec—” Koltira interrupts her with a clearing of his throat. “Oh, right.” She instead busies herself with searching through her pack. She finds what she wants, dropping a candy cane into her Dalapeño juice and stirring it around.

“Where are you from?” Koltira asks.

The lower lids of his eyes flicker slightly at the sight of Alisbeth's mug of unspeakable horrors. Grimory flicks his attention back to the other man, the image burned into his head. “Uhm, some farm in Hillsbrad.” He thirstily downs the rest of his beverage and sets the mug aside with a gold piece from a pouch at his hip. “Nothing special.”

Alisbeth leans forward with interest. “Oh, but it is special, if it's where you're from. Where we come from and where we've been makes us who we are.”

Koltira finishes his drink in one gulp, then looks into the empty glass as though betrayed by how little there had been.

Grimory leans away almost instinctively. “I suppose.” He waves the barmaid back and orders a heavier mixed drink, again regarding the woman with sickening politeness.

Anarchaia returns with a heavy sigh, a knapsack over her shoulder. She sets it down below the bench Grimory is sat at and hikes up her robe, tying the excess at her hip. Throwing back her hood she sits beside him. “All right,” she says, adjusting her belt. “What are we talking about?

“Where we're from. Do you want something to drink?” Grimory motions to the maid still standing patiently at the table.

“Oh! Uh...just some water, please. Ice.”

Koltira quickly orders a much larger, stiffer drink as Alisbeth just smiles and chews on dalapeño pulp. She sucks the juice from her candy cane, then crunches away at the end. “So where are you from?”

Anarchaia waves a hand as if to accentuate that the information is extremely meaningless. Small talk was never a forte for her. “Duskwood.”

“You aren't going to order a drink?” Grimory lowers an eyebrow in her direction.

The mage shakes her head gently. “Not tonight. Too much to think about. Too early to rise.” She pulls a rolled map from her knapsack and smooths it out on the table. “So we're—”

“We can go over that tomorrow, Ana.” The Illidari pushes the edge of the paper back toward the other end, causing it to curl back over itself. “Just chill out, okay?”

Anarchaia pauses, fidgeting with her thumb. “Sure,” she finally says, rolling the paper back up.

Koltira decides to ask the question Grimory had asked him earlier. “So, are you two...together?”

The two quickly glance at him as though they'd both been physically stricken. “No,” they respond in unison. After briefly looking at one another, Anarchaia busies herself by putting the map back into her bag.

Grimory, visibly uncomfortable, looks away. Tiny green flecks flicker from his glowing eyes. “Just friends.”

Anarchaia snorts some, putting her elbows on the table, crossing her fingers, and cradling her chin within them. “If you could call it that.”

Alisbeth's eyes flicker to the demon hunter, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Not together. How...interesting.” She flicks a single eyebrow up at him.

“Really?” Koltira hisses. “Now?”

She blocks her mouth to whisper to Koltira. “Just imagine grabbing those horns and going for a ride.”

Koltira buries his face in his palms. “I'm not hearing this.”

Again Grimory thanks the barmaid as their drinks are brought, pretending not to have heard Alisbeth's whispering. He takes the liberty of sliding Koltira his glass.

Anarchaia pulls her glass of water to her hand with flows of violet sparkles before Grimory has a chance to serve her. She pushes her mask up to just above her teal upper lip, exposing her pale periwinkle skin, and takes a sip. “So...hobbies? Hopes? Dreams?” She cringes inwardly at her awkwardness and crunches a cube of ice between her molars.

Alisbeth's eyes widen. Her mouth drops open. “Oh my gods, you're—”

Koltira covers her mouth, eyeing Anarchaia warily. “I'm sorry,” Koltira says, “I don't think this team up will work.”

The other two blink.

Anarchaia stammers. “A-Aaaahm...okay. That's fine and all.” She sets her cup down gently, doing well with hiding her agitation. “May I ask why?”

Alisbeth shoves Koltira off her. “Yes,” Alisbeth growls. “Yes, please, I would also like to know why I can't team up with a Night Elf.” She purses her lips and scrutinizes Anarchaia. “Draenei?” She leaps under the table. “Do you have horns? Cause I'd _love_ to see them!” She grabs a boot, then whines. “Aww. No hooves. I like these boots!” She runs her hands along the soft leather.

Koltira lets out a sigh of relief. “I'm sorry. I was mistaken. It seems we'll be fine after all.”

Anarchaia's mouth opens and closes as if meaning to speak but no words come forth. She leans back quickly when Alisbeth disappears beneath the table, then giggles loudly when her calves are caressed. She covers her mouth to stifle the rest of her laughter and tries to gently push the girl away with a foot. “S-Stop!”

Grimory sips his drink as he watches, knuckles on his cheekbone and clearly amused. “Oh, this should be a fun trip,” he hums, grinning ever-so-slightly at the sound of his companion's chuckles.

Koltira gulps at his drink and smiles. “Oh, you think so?”

Alisbeth drags the skirt of the robe over herself and pops up in Anarchaia's lap. “Where did you get these boots?”

The mage places a hand over the bulge beneath her shortened robes and presses on it. “All my clothes are from Dalaran.”

Grimory's emerald attention returns to Koltira. “Your _teammate_ is a lot of fun.” He brings the mug to his lips once more and drinks. “Could use the excitement.”

Alisbeth clambers onto the bench between the other two, her hair a wild disaster and a smile plastered on her face. “So, you're a girl, right? You smell like a girl. You sound like a girl. But, um...” She points at Anarchaia's chest, her finger getting closer.

“Fun,” he chuckles. “That's one way to put it.” He brings his drink to his lips. “Ali, don't.”

Alisbeth clenches her hand and turns away. “I wasn't.” She smiles up at Grimory for only a second before turning to stare conspicuously at Anarchaia's chest. “But seriously, though.”

Grimory gives a hearty, genuine laugh at Alisbeth's nosiness. “Yeah, she's a girl,” he chuckles into his mug before throwing the rest of its contents down his throat.

Anarchaia wraps her arms defensively around her chest, blushing and bristling. “What does the size of my breasts have to do with anything?!” she hisses, clearly flustered.

“Nothing. I just... thought you were a boy, is all.”

Koltira pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ali, don't start.”

She points at him. “I'm not starting. I'm being friendly. You're being boring.” She spins on Grimory, smiling like a devil. “Can I touch your horns again?”

The liquor already affecting him, Grimory smiles coyly down at her at the tail-end of his laughter. She was already growing on him. “I don't see why not. Touch away.”

Anarchaia scoffs and pouts at her indignity, scooping up her knapsack and standing. “I'm putting this away until tomorrow. I'll be right back.” She stomps toward the staircase, muttering obscenities beneath her breath.

Alisbeth bites her lower lip and removes her gauntlets to reveal hands with skin so delicate it's like thin silk, and underneath is nothing but bone. It is a stark contrast to her face, which still holds some fleshy shape to it beneath her skin so white is bears a creamy blue hue in certain lighting. She pauses and glances at Koltira.

“Oh, no, don't look at me. He gave you permission.”

She reaches forward to rub her palms along the rough of his horns. “How did you get them? Did it hurt?”

Color crawls its way across his cheeks—whether from the alcohol or the attention he could not say. “A bit,” he admits, admiring the porcelain hue of the girl's thin fingers. “I've eaten the heart of a demon I slew myself. It was all very _poetic_.” His sharp teeth peek out from the corner of his mouth and he can't help but glance at the other man across the table, waiting for confirmation of his suspicions.

Koltira takes a gulp of his drink, then looks at the other tavern patrons in turn, doing what he can to ignore Alisbeth and Grimory.

“How is that poetic? Why did you eat it? What did it taste like?” She pokes a fingertip into his lips to tap on a sharp canine.

His eyebrows lower, not having expected her to poke him in the mouth. “I did it to join the ranks of the Illidari and do my part to stop the Burning Legion,” he explains through her finger. His eyes narrow and his grin widens. “And it tasted like success.”

Alisbeth nods. “Like success. I see... I bet success tastes like pickles. Sour but juicy and satisfying but you also kind of don't want to eat another one and put yourself through that again.” She takes her finger out of his mouth and leans across him to touch his other horn. “Completely identical. They're so amazing.” She suddenly grips both horns and pulls his face into hers, their foreheads knocking together. “Can I get some, too?”

He winces as their skulls butt. His eyes ignite to life, crackling quietly with fel fire, due to the closeness of their faces. “I'm...not sure, actually,” he stammers. “Probably? I don't know the rules.”

Anarchaia steps back into the room, passing a group that had decided to retire for the night. Her eyes narrow slightly at the sight before her and she opts to take up a spot at the far end of Koltira's bench instead, away from the two enamored with one another. Her water obediently slides into her palm and she takes a moody drink.

Koltira studies Anarchaia for a long time, rubbing the side of his index finger along his lower lip.

“Why don't you know the rules? You're a demonic...demon dude. You just don't want me to have my own horns, do you?” She narrows her eyes, then blinks a few times as the heat from his burns against her frosty ones.

Grimory shrugs and for the first time attempts to pull his head away. “It's all magic bullshit in the end, really. I don't understand any of it. So no, I'm not trying to keep you from getting some.”

Anarchaia's eyes meet Koltira's and she purses her lips suspiciously. “What's wrong?” she inquires in a hushed tone as not to interrupt the two across the table, doing well hiding the residual irritation from earlier. Her glass of water frosts over and she takes another sip.

Alisbeth releases Grimory's horns and rubs her fists into her eyes. “Woah, that'll do some damage.” She casts blind eyes around the tavern, loses her balance, and falls from the bench onto the stone floor.

Koltira slides down the bench to sit close enough to Anarchaia to whisper. “You're not a Draenei, Alisbeth figure that out. But I also don't think you're a Night Elf.”

Grimory winces as Alisbeth hits the floor and almost immediately offers a hand to help her back up, panic in his voice. “I'm sorry! I can't control it! Are you okay?”

Anarchaia leans away slightly at his approach, her cup still at her shining blue lips. “What does it matter what I am?” She sets the glass down and hesitantly pulls her mask back over her chin.

Koltira purses his lips. “I won't ask if you promise to never tell. As far as I know, maybe you are a Night Elf.” He shrugs. “No need to go further than that.”

“There's spots dancing in my eyes!” Alisbeth's vision slowly clears and she takes Grimory's hand, letting him pull her onto the bench. “That was cool, do it again.”

“Definitely something you won't have to worry about,” the mage says, her voice low. The icy water within her glass levitates upward as if on its own, then throws itself into Grimory's face, effectively dousing the flames in his eyes.

“Agh!” he growls. “ _Ana, that's cold!_ ” The blond rubs at his face and smooths back his hair before shooting his friend a glare.

“I'm glad we understand each other,” Koltira says on a final whisper, then smiles at the mage.

Alisbeth slaps her hands over her mouth and laughs into her palms. “Oh my gods! Mage-face, do that again!”

“Sorry, fresh out of water.” Anarchaia returns the grin despite it not being seen. She conjures a pocket watch and flicks it open with thin, bony fingers. “Hm. Perhaps we should take an example from the emptying tavern and get some rest. Tomorrow calls.”

“Not like you care. You never sleep,” Grimory grunts after getting his hair back to an acceptable state. “And I'm not even sure what time it is, to be honest.”

“Eleven-thirty-eight.”

“What are we, children?” he barks. “I'm having another drink. _Miss!_ ” Grimory once again calls for the barmaid.

“We don't sleep,” Alisbeth chirps enthusiastically. “And I'm sure your friend sleeps plenty, you just don't notice because of her mask!”

“Perhaps retiring is a good idea,” Koltira says.

“You two can retire. I'm going to stay here with hot stuff.” She sets a hand on his knee under the table.

“At least _someone_ knows how to have a good time.” Grimory says in Anarchaia's direction after ordering a third, even stronger drink.

The watch in her palm disappears and Anarchaia stands once again. “You know what, Grim? Yeah, go ahead. Have a good time. In fact, have the _best_ time.” She blinks from her seat to a standing position at the end of the table. “I'm going to rest, however. Whether it be by sleep or not.” Her attention flicks to Alisbeth's hand below the table. She pretends not to notice and turns to the stairwell. “I'll see you in the morning.”

Alisbeth frowns at the retreating figure. “Is she okay? Does she not like me?” She stares over at Koltira. “Did I do something wrong?”

Koltira stares after the Anarchaia, wishing he could also get up and walk away, rather than stay and watch Alisbeth fawn over a man she'd just met. He knew it was merely curious excitement over what he was, but it bothered Koltira more than her flirting with other men, especially because they would be traveling together for some time. He chooses not to reply to Alisbeth and instead finishes off his drink.

The demon hunter shakes his head, his attention lingering on Anarchaia before she disappears up the stairs. He turns and pats Alisbeth on the head with a drunken smile. “Don't mind her. She's just moody. She'll get over it.”

Alisbeth smiles under the pats. “I don't want her to hate me. She seems nice.”

“Pfft. Ana doesn't have a hateful bone in her body. If anything she's mad at me.” When his beverage is set before him, he takes a bigger drink than he should and stifles a cough. “Don't worry about her.”

Koltira stands abruptly. He then does something he hasn't done in a long time and leaves Alisbeth alone in the tavern with the other man. He grits his teeth, seething in thought. His shoulder bumps into another standing in the hall. “Excuse me,” he mumbles and keeps walking. Then he stops and turns to cock an eyebrow at Anarchaia. “Oh, it's you. Sorry. Have a good night.”

Anarchaia braces herself against the door as she's gently pushed toward it. She looks up from fiddling with the lock. “Oh, yeah. You as well.” She pauses then hesitates. “Hey, can you maybe...help me with this? It seems to be stuck.” She jiggles the key in the lock.

“Can't wiggle your fingers and pop it open?” Koltira smirks and wraps his hand around the key, giving it a sturdy turn. “Oh, wow. What the hell is in here?” He tries again with more muscle and a short grunt.

“I'm not too good with locks,” Anarchaia explains. “It was unlocked the first time I came up.” She grumbles at her misfortune, folding her arms. “Thanks for your help.”

Koltira nods. “Any time.” He drops the key into her palm. “Try not to get yourself locked in...but if you do just make sure you shout loud enough for me to hear.” He turns to leave, but stops. “I'm sorry if Alisbeth upset you. She's not always easy to handle.”

Anarchaia gives a quiet chuckle and puts the key in the secret pocket in her belt. "Getting out is the easy part." She makes to step inside, but stops when she hears his apology. "It's...fine. I'm kind of used to it." Hesitation overcomes her. "Uhm, can I speak with you? In private?"

“Hmm?” His eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Of course you can.” He follows her into the room.

 

~ * ~

 

Alisbeth bites her lower lip and stares at his drink, then looks around the tavern to confirm Koltira is gone. “Can I have a sip?”

Grimory lifts an eyebrow at her. “Your buddy won't let you drink, eh?” He mulls the thought over in his head, then grins and nudges the cup toward her with a single finger. “Then be my guest.”

Alisbeth grabs the cup and chugs all but a few small gulps. She wipes her mouth. “He says I get too out of control.” She scoffs. “He's just worried I'll do what I did the last time I drank.”

"Oh?" Grimory responds, curious. "And what would that be?"

Alisbeth shrugs innocently. “I mean, it wasn't even that big of deal. But now I can't go to Dalaran without Koltira escorting me. It was only _five_ guys.” She scoffs.

Grimory pulls his ears back in alarm and slowly takes the cup back. “Five guys.”

“Yeah, only five. I mean, that's not that bad, right?” She pauses to grin as though trying to convince him of something. “See, it would have only been the one, but then his buddy got involved, the third guy got too close and it was completely his fault he took my axe to his face. So then _that_ guy's friend got involved and then the bartender tried to stop it. But I wasn't done, you know? We were having a laugh! It was fun!” She reaches around for the cup to drink the last few gulps left.

Grimory blinks once and allows her the rest of his beverage. “Oh, you mean a fight.” He gives a nervous laugh and scratches at the back of his neck. “For a moment there I thought...heh.”

Alisbeth gulps down the last of the drink and uses a finger to swipe the leftover liquid up and suck it off her finger. “Yeah. What did you think I meant?”

The demon hunter laughs somewhat and rests his elbow back on the table top. “I thought you'd fucked five guys at once,” he says with another laugh, his knuckles again at his cheek.

Alisbeth crooks her mouth sideways. “How would I even... Oh! Hands.” She holds up her hands, circling her fingers. “Does that count? I think that counts.” She pauses. “Actually, I'm not sure if that counts.” She rests her arms on the table. “Nope. Couldn't do that. I think it would get too confusing.”

Grimory snerks, another laugh escaping him. “I'd say it counts, but I'm obviously no official on the subject.” He waves a finger for the maid in hopes of replacing his empty drink. “So what started this fight? Someone say something about your _guy pal_?”

“YES!” She shouts, then quiets down. “He was saying that Kolty spent the last four years fucking that banshee bitch, but I know he didn't. He's very loyal. He would never do that.” She smiles at the barmaid. “Oh! Can I have a whiskey and a cinnamon stick, please?”

“Same, actually,” Grimory says to the barmaid. “Loyal, you say? So you two are more than teammates, hm?”

“Whole bottle!” Alisbeth shouts after the barmaid. She waits patiently, tapping her fingertips together, until their drinks arrive. Alisbeth crushes the cinnamon stick into several long slivers, then slips them into the mouth of the bottle and replaces the cork. “Oh, that.” She laughs and smiles charmingly at Grimory as she shakes the bottle. “That's one of those things I'm not supposed to talk about.” She takes a swig of her cinnamon whiskey concoction, a stick coming away between her lips. She spits it back into the bottle and points at it through the glass. “You stay in there.”

“I can keep a secret,” Grimory hums, giving her his cinnamon stick. He takes in a mouthful of whiskey and swallows. “You can trust me.”

Alisbeth chews on the cinnamon stick thoughtfully as she studies him. “No. Hm-mmm. I don't know you well enough to tell you that. Stranger danger and all that.”

“You touched my horns. We're no longer strangers,” Grimory slurs matter-of-factly. “Those are the rules.” He grins playfully down at her and rubs his thumb on his glass.

Alisbeth takes another hefty swig of whiskey. “Okay, but, I'm still not supposed to tell you. And I'm already being bad, so I don't want to be even worse.” She swallows several more gulps, color coming to the tips of her ears. She leans on the table and smiles at him. “Sorry, buddy, no dice.”

Grimory chuckles and shrugs, defeated. “All right, you win. I won't ask.” He throws back the rest of his drink and swallows a belch. “Regardless, sounds like you're pretty rowdy. I like that.”

Alisbeth swirls the bottom of the bottle around on the tabletop before swallowing the last of the contents. “What else do you like?”

“Like, in general?” Grimory runs a hand over his hair, the alcohol making his head swim. He gives another flirty grin. “Or just about you?”

Alisbeth grins back and opens her mouth to respond, then thinks. “I dunno. Pick one!”

Grimory taps the spot where his goatee tapers into his lower lip and ponders. “I like booze...and pretty girls.”

“Me too!” Alisbeth jumps in excitement. “And pretty boys.”

“I can tell from your choice in friends. What else do you like?” Grimory gazes at her intently, eyes half-lidded and glazed over.

Alisbeth reaches up with one hand and smooths her palm over his horns again. “I _really_ like your horns.” She pokes his smile with her other fingertip. “I like your pointy teeth.”

Eyes still on her, Grimory opens his jaws and bites down on her finger gingerly. Knuckles still smooshed against his cheek, he narrows his eyes as though urging her to make a counter move.

Alisbeth smiles flirtatiously and leans forward while pulling on Grimory's horn, to nip at his ear with her teeth.

Still holding her finger in his teeth, Grimory runs a palm up Alisbeth's thigh beneath the table. His alcohol-fueled blush deepens with her bites.

Alisbeth moves his hand to her inner thigh and whispers in his ear. “Tell me what else you like.”

“White hair, blue eyeth,” he says through her finger and gently pushes his teeth together. The demon hunter gives her a sly wink. “Comfy beds and deft hands.” His tongue flicks at the tip of her finger.

“Mmm,” Alisbeth sighs. “Know of any...comfy beds nearby?” She gives him a wink, tracing her free fingertips along his tattoos.

His muscles flex beneath her touch. He releases her finger. “My room's right upstairs,” he croons.

A devilish smile spreads across Alisbeth’s lips. “Let's see it, then.”

Grimory throws a few coins on the table and stands. He does his best to remain upright and holds out a bent arm. “It'd be my pleasure, m'lady,” he sings in a smarmy accent.

Alisbeth replaces her gloves and slips her hand into Grimory's arm, letting him guide her from the tavern.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
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Anarchaia inhales as she closes the door with her back. “So,” she says in a hushed tone, “when we got here a while ago, I ran home to grab some things.” She brings her hands to her front to tent her fingers. “I met briefly with Master to update him on our progress and...I mentioned you in passing.”

Koltira stays silent, tapping the pad of his thumb on his chin. “I imagine you heard some very...displeasing information?”

“Well,” the mage continues, “yes and no.” She waves her hands about as she speaks, clearly choosing her words with much care. “He said that your...companion?...has been known around Dalaran to be very, uhm...” Her voice suddenly changes - a masculine tone hinted with age escaping her throat instead of her own. “Volatile.”

Koltira folds his arms over his chest. “Yes...that...” He also speaks slow, choosing his words with care. “She...has her moments. But we're working on that. It's best if she doesn't drink, and I can calm her...unusual moods.”

Anarchaia hesitates, her mouth hanging open and words at the tip of her tongue, but she closes it and swallows. “He said some other things as well,” she continues in her own voice. Her eyes gaze cautiously into his face from behind her mask. Shadows cast by the single candle in the room flicker about. “I know I asked you earlier, but...are you absolutely sure we won't have any problems with you two? Will she listen to you should something happen?”

Koltira crosses his arms over his wide chest and paces while he thinks. “You will have no problems with me, I can assure you that. But so long as I am around to keep her in check, then...hopefully we can avoid any incidents.” He smirks at the mage. “I'm sure you're adept at incapacitating an individual, should the need arise?”

“That puts me at ease a bit, at least.” Anarchaia narrows her eyes at his smirk and shifts a hand to her hip. “You sound doubtful that I could.”

“Not doubtful,” he says. “Just making sure. I mean, what student of your talents wouldn't know how to defend themselves?”

Anarchaia tilts her head at his tone. “You say that as though you know of me.” She strides across the room to settle in the single armchair. The leather groans beneath her. “But yes, I can. I'd prefer not to, however.”

Koltira leans against the wall, crossing his ankles. “No, I don't know of you. But you are highly skilled and you pulled your punches against Alisbeth. You were barely trying. Just trying to scare her, I presume.”

“Oh, heh. You're too kind.” Anarchaia waves a dismissive hand. She crosses a leg over the other. “But yeah,” she continues, clearing her throat, “thanks for being honest with me. I don't think we should have any issues.” _As long as I keep my face hidden,_ she thinks to herself nervously and fidgets with her thumbs.

“While we're on the subject...should I have heard of you?” Koltira straightens but keeps his arms crossed casually.

“I don't think so,” Anarchaia replies thoughtfully. “I'm not very famous. I haven't left the Hall much, ever. I've never done anything of significance.” She shrugs. “I'm sure you've heard of my Master, though. He's obviously heard of you.”

“And who is your master?” Koltira asks.

The mage gives a wide, endearing smile despite it being hidden. “Archmage Khadgar, of course.”

Koltira's eyes go wide as he doesn't even try to hide his astonishment. “The Guardian himself?” He whistles low. “How does one fall into such a man's tutelage?”

Anarchaia waves another hand and chortles, embarrassed. “Well he's not the Guardian...yet. And I guess you could say it cost me an arm and a leg. Heh.”

Koltira clears his throat. “Right, sorry. I'm still catching up on the news of the world... You had to pay to become his student? Never would have taken Khadgar for a miser.” He crosses the room slowly, then settles himself on the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “What is he training you for?”

“Oh, no! I didn't pay. He asked me to study under him personally, actually.” Anarchaia stops at his question and blinks slowly. Her shoulders finally rise in a shrug. “You know, after twenty years I've never actually thought to ask.”

“Twenty years,” he muses. He shakes off the thoughts he has of her voice being too young for twenty years as an apprentice. “Maybe you should ask him. It _is_ good to ask questions, you know.”

Anarchaia gives another shrug. “I've never held back from asking questions. I just never thought to ask that particular one.” Her smile broadens yet again and her voice lowers to a tone of dreamy contentment. “I guess I never cared.”

Koltira sighs and nods. “I suppose I should leave you to your thoughts, then.” He stands to leave.

Anarchaia blinks again, sobering. “O-Oh! Uhm...all right.” She lowers her voice after a moment. “I don't recommend going back downstairs, however. Unless you want to vomit.” A sigh escapes her and she pouts. “I'm starting to wish I'd had a drink, too.”

“Well,” Koltira says, “if you still want a drink I will accompany you back to the tavern. Unless you have... other means of procuring a stiff drink?”

“Actually...” Anarchaia pauses, then holds out a hand, palm up. A large, dark bottle appears an inch or so above it and falls. The weight of it sinks into her hand. The girl brings a finger to her lips. “Don't tell the barkeep back home.”

Koltira smirks at the mage. “Ana, I don't know what you're talking about.”

Anarchaia pushes her mask back up to give him a wide, crooked grin. “Well! Shouldn't be a problem then, no?” The cork flies off the bottle suddenly, bouncing off the ceiling and onto the floor where it rolls beneath the bed. “Unfortunately I don't know where he keeps the glasses so we'll have to share the bottle.”

Koltira gives a short laugh. “Really, that's the best way to do it! So, tell me more about being apprentice to Khadgar.”

Anarchaia hums thoughtfully and moves to the bed, the feathers inside poofing beneath her weight. She drinks. “It's...tedious. He has high hopes for me so he pushes extra hard. He's really too nice, though. Very intelligent.” She holds out the bottle for him. “You have a teacher? Do death knights have teachers?”

Koltira accepts the bottle with a grateful nod and thinks as he rolls the liquor through his mouth. “We don't really have...teachers, per se. Mograine was always my superior and he always told me what to do. Thassarian and I trained together in Icecrown and still spar every so often. But really it's all just... instinct, I suppose.” He holds the bottle out for Anarchaia and smiles kindly.

Anarchaia nods and stares up at Koltira at he speaks, genuinely interested. She accepts the bottle back and takes the smallest of sips. “I see. So you just somehow know all your spells and abilities? Do you use mana? Is your skin as cold as it looks?” Her eyes light up behind her mask as she eagerly awaits his answers and leans forward. She again offers the booze.

Koltira thinks on her questions. “It's sort of fuzzy, really. I do know that I had to be taught how to control what I can do. But it was never one single teacher, rather whoever was available and had mastered it.” He sips from the bottle and smiles at her enthusiasm. “I use the runes on my blade,” he motions at his back, then remembers he'd left it with Bloodmist. “Ah, I can show you later. They're a sort of magic and I draw on their power to aid me in battle.” He purses his lips at the final question. “I don't feel cold to me.” He smirks slyly.

Anarchaia nods at each of his answers. A long piece of parchment and quill materialize at her side, floating in purple light. The quill scribbles furiously. “Mmhm. I see. Fascinating.” Her dark lips scrunch into a pout at his last response. “Well I wasn't asking what it felt like to _you_.” She holds her hand out, implying she'd like a drink.

Koltira hands the bottle over and laughs. “Well, Alisbeth didn't quite enjoy the first time after I'd died. She pulled a blanket between us and cringed more than enough to bruise my ego.” He laughs again at his memory. “Hot baths, though. That's the secret.”

The mage nods again and the quill continues. She takes a long pull. “I'll keep that in mind.” Rubbing at her mouth with the back of a glove, she clears her burning throat. “The portals you make. Are they like ours? A Warlock's?” Her cheeks had already begun to flush as her body greedily soaks up anything that's put into it. She pauses and steels herself. “Do...” She bites her lip and glances at the door. Her voice lowers. “Do you sometimes hear whispers?”

Koltira stands, visibly disturbed by Anarchaia's questions. “The-the portals a-are...I don't know. I'm sorry.” He paces the room. “I'm not the first death knight you've interviewed, I presume?”

Anarchaia laughs suddenly, nervously. She takes another long drink. “Y-Yeah. That's...the reason.” She clears her throat again and scrambles to change the subject, not expecting his reaction. “I hear some of you can control the undead. Is that true?”

Koltira stops pacing and leans in close to her face. “Who told you about the whispers?” he hisses. “Did they also tell you about the shadows? What do you know of them?”

She swallows and leans away, frightened. Breathing heavily through her nose, she holds the bottle to her chest. In a moment of lost common sense, Anarchaia parts her lips. “Because I hear them, too,” she whispers.

Koltira straightens and takes a step back. “Can you...understand them?” he asks tentatively. “I've been seeing the shadows for years, ever since parting from the Lich King. But I don't know what they're saying or what they want.” He sighs and sits on the bed beside her. He whispers, “I'm afraid I was right about you.”

The mage downs another good amount and holds the bottle out, her fingers twitching. “I only make out words and phrases. A lot of it is in Orcish but too quiet. They say to obey. Return. Succumb.” She glances at the Blood Elf as he sits then looks away, seemingly ashamed. “Yeah...”

Koltira takes a long drink and hands it back. “Keep your mask on.” He presses his forehead into his hands. “This may have been a foolish idea. If you want us to leave, then I'll take her home in the morning and we'll be out of your hair.”

“It's fine,” she says pointedly and sloshes the liquid around inside. The parchment floating at her side disappears in a puff of lavender smoke, followed by the quill. “Like I said, I can defend myself.” Anarchaia turns her head back slightly, giving Koltira a sideways glance. “Please...don't tell Grim”

“He doesn't know?” Koltira casts sympathetic eyes on the mage. “My lips are sealed, Ana. May I call you Ana?”

“No, he doesn't.” Her jaw tightens. “Nor will he.” She turns her head completely towards the death knight and smiles, albeit painfully. “Only if I can call you Kolt.” She offers the rest of the alcohol, her grin widening only slightly.

Koltira chuckles as he takes the bottle. “Only one letter off from what Ali calls me, so I don't see the harm.” He finishes off the little alcohol left and sets the container on the small table beside the bed. “Why do you keep secrets like this one from your friend?”

Her smile turns somber again and she presses a palm to her cheek, feeling the warmth. “I...” She swallows hard and bites her lip. “My face... If he saw it...” Her hand falls into her lap and she shakes her head. “If you saw it you'd understand.”

The tips of his ears grow warm with the alcohol and his demeanor shifts to one of great calm. He chews on the inside of his lip. “I'll show you mine if you eventually show me yours. When you're more comfortable, of course.”

Anarchaia furrows her brow and gives the man a once over, confused and suspicious. “Show me your...?”

He smiles slyly and removes the armor of his upper torso, then pulls his shirt over his head. On his sternum, between two glowing bright blue runic tattoos, is a jagged, ugly scar an inch wide and six inches long. “It went all the way through,” he says, turning around to show her the scar's twin along his spine.

The girl physically recoils. “Oh Gods that's terrible. What happened? Did it hurt? Was it quick?” She's compelled to reach out and touch the marred flesh but knows her fingers will feel nothing. “You didn't suffer, did you?”

“It was my closest friend, Thassarian. I remember that it hurt, but I don't remember how it felt. I only remember Alisbeth's face being the last thing I saw. The next thing I know I'm alive again. I found her sword, assumed the worst, and took it as my own. The Lich King gifted me the steed of a paladin to ride to the Sunwell on. She doesn't know it was her horse, too.” He smiles. “Everything I hold most dear is directly connected to Ali. Now you know the secret I keep from her. I'm not sure she could handle Bloodmane having been resurrected alongside me.” He sits back on the bed and eyes Anarchaia. “You want to prod me like a specimen, don't you?”

She listens intently, then glances down at her own outstretched hand when addressed. Startled by her own behavior, Anarchaia flushes and shoves the hand between her thighs. “S-Sorry! I'm a tactile person. I just...forget I don't have fingers anymore. Heh.” A long silence passes during which she considers her options. Eventually she comes to a decision. “I suppose it's only fair. I'll never tell if you don't.” Her hands creep to the hem of her mask.

“No fingers?” His eyebrows raise with interest. “You can hardly tell with those gloves. And it's fine, Alisbeth prodded it, too.” He notices the tentative creep of her hands and sets his own on hers. “If you're not comfortable, you don't have to show me. We've only just met, after all.” He looks down at his bare chest and snorts. “Sort of.”

She flushes at the sudden contact, the image of how they must look right now flashing through her head. Again she hesitates, his words sparking second thoughts. She groans, feeling obligated after what he'd shared. “It's okay. It's just my face. For me to show you everything I'd have to get nearly nude. Heh.”

He laughs, his head light. “I'm already halfway there. But, no, it's probably best for one of us to remain dressed.”

The mask's fabric crumples up as it releases her head. Her snowy hair cascades into her pale face. Anarchaia avoids eye contact, her red pupils cast downward. Two rows of thick stitches stretch from her good, light blue eye. She hesitantly brushes her hair away to reveal the other eye—an empty socket lined with dry blood and old sinew; a dim red light glows within, mimicking the actions of the opposite pupil. “I was murdered by a group of bandits.”

Koltira says nothing for a long time, the air remains quiet and still as he doesn't breathe. But his anger radiates from him. “The senseless killing of a beautiful maiden is never forgivable. Tell me you got your revenge, and if you haven't, I've got a good sword and a dangerous wife.” He pauses, then brushes his hair back as though playing off that he hadn't said what he did. “I meant dangerous friends. We would be honored to exact retribution on your behalf.” Without another thought he brushes his fingertips along her skin to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Oh, y-you're really too kind.” Anarchaia flinches as his fingers come towards her face, then blushes more at his touch. “Master Khadgar and his caravan took care of them.” Her white eyelashes flutter. She continues to stare down at her hands in her lap and smiles reassuringly. “That's really noble of you, though. You have my thanks.”

Koltira lets out a sigh as she seems to have not noticed his slip. “That's good of him. I see now why you never asked why he trains you. It's not about the training, it's about his company.”

The mage bites her lip. “He's the only one—up until today—who hasn't cringed or spat at the sight of me.” She fiddles with her mask, wringing it idly. “So I imagine you're right.” Her smile widens. “He's my best friend.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Why would anyone do that? You're beautiful!” His cheeks flush and he stares at his palms. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't...” Koltira stands and pulls his shirt back over his head then crosses his arms over his torso. He stands in front of her, but looks past her out the window at the moonlit night.

Anarchaia's heart pounds behind her sternum and she buries her face in her crumpled mask. She mumbles something that's lost in the fabric. The newly awkward air creeps into her muscles and makes her stiffen.

Koltira narrows his eyes in curiosity. “Come again?”

Anarchaia glances up at him, the fabric still covering her nose and mouth. “I said 'stop being so charming'.”

He straightens and stares down at her. “I'm not trying to be, I'm sorry. I'm just telling the truth. I can stop. I can be an asshole like your friend down in the tavern.”

She closes her eyes as she chuckles, bringing the mask away from her face again. “Grim is definitely an asshole, but he's a nice guy at heart.” She tilts her head and shoots a crooked smile. “But I somehow don't trust that you have the capability of being a jerk.”

He bristles at the challenge. “Oh? You don't think so? Well, you know, you're—” He stops. “I can't do this when I can see your face. Honestly now that I've seen it I don't know that I can be an asshole to you. I could be an asshole to him, if you'd like. But not you. You're too—” He catches himself and purses his lips.

Her brow furrows upward and she chortles again. “See? You have to literally stop yourself from being nice.” Her grin turns triumphant and she rests her chin on her knuckles. “Care to try again? At being an asshole, I mean.”

“Put your mask on and stop giving me googly-eyes,” he demands quickly.

Anarchaia blinks, taken aback. She laughs airily and does as she's told. “Much better.” Her hair flutters up in an invisible vortex and she throws the mask over the top and down over her face in one swift motion.

“Right...asshole.” He shakes out his hands as though it will help in his performance. “Your perfume is strong enough to choke any living being.” He fights off his smirk. “Your robes fit you like a circus tent.” He bites his lips together, unable to take himself seriously. “You're a s-seco...You're a second rate m-mage,” he says, fighting back his laughter and losing at the end. “You're right. I can't be a genuine asshole to you. Grimory would be an easy target.”

She spreads a palm over her breast and feigns a sob. “How can you be so cruel?” she laments. Her laughter joins his and she pushes her mask against her good eye to soak up a tear. “Perhaps. I warn you, though, he looks like a brute but he's fairly well-spoken.”

“Ah,” Koltira grunts. “If his wit is as sharp as his claws, then it'll be a thrilling conversation. Otherwise I may die of boredom. May I escort you? Or shall we wait until morning so the poor mortal can sleep.” He gives a devilish grin.

She chuckles and stands. “I wouldn't miss this for the world.” After adjusting her belt she motions toward the door dramatically. “Charming gentlemen first.”

Koltira opens the door, fighting with it again. “I swear this thing is rusted.” Once open he motions into the hall. “M'lady.”

Anarchaia curtseys with her robes and makes her way toward the staircase, opting to leave the door unlocked as not to cause trouble later. “It's gotten pretty quiet down there.”

Koltira leads her to the tavern, but once inside realizes the only two inhabitants are the barkeep scrubbing down the counter and a scruffy Night Elf falling asleep in his mead. Koltira's ears pull back in fear, his frantic eyes lock onto Anarchaia's mask. “Does he have his own room?”

The mage also gives the tavern a quick scan. Concern creeps into her chest, making her itch. She looks up at Koltira and frowns, scared of where this is going. “Of course he does,” she admits. “We don't share rooms.”

He rubs his palms down his face. “Would he kill a woman if she was going to kill him?”

Anarchaia taps her chin in thought. “Probably.”

Koltira's chest tightens with panic. “We might be a party member short. Take me to his room.”

The concern amplifies and Anarchaia turns to bolt back up the staircase, even blinking over a few steps at a time. “It's on the left here.” The handle doesn't give, however and she fidgets. “I don't have a key...”

Rage and panic bubble in Koltira's chest, his limbs buzz with sudden adrenaline as he follows Anarchaia at a run. He tests the knob, but the door has been locked. He raises his foot and kicks it open. Then he stops, relief, anger, betrayal, and regret all slam into him as he looks at the blood-soaked bed.

Alisbeth lies sideways against Grimory's motionless figure, her head on his stomach as she twirls a bloodied dagger in her fingers. She sits up and turns to meet Koltira's gaze. Her own eyes widen as she begins to slowly bring the sheets up to cover her naked body. Alisbeth's face contorts, betraying her shame at what she's done as tears spring to her eyes.

“Kolty, This isn't what it looks like.”

Anarchaia's chest tightens at the crimson mess and she pushes past Koltira with urgency. “ _Grim!!_ ” She rushes to his side, breathing ragged and erratic. Leaning over the bed to his bound and immobile figure, she shakes him. Amidst her trying to rouse him she glances at Alisbeth. Tears sting her eyes. “ _What did you do?!_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
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“Kolty, please, it's not what it looks like!” Alisbeth begins to sob uncontrollably.

He purses his lips, holding back the shouting pressing at his throat. “We had a deal, Alisbeth.” He looks over to the demon hunter.

His horns are tied to the head of the bed. Ropes dangle loosely from his wrists, stretched and singed black, their ends frayed from where he must have torn free. Alisbeth starts talking so fast that nothing comes out as actual words, while she gestures between herself and Grimory.

Anarchaia physically bites back a sob, a hand reaching up to cradle his cheek. “Grim, say something.”

The Demon Hunter groans and shifts. “Whuh...? Oh, Ana.” A thick hand comes up to cover his face and he chuckles when he remembers. “Oh, man,” he laughs drunkenly. “That was insane.”

Koltira's eyes widen. “Y-You didn't kill him?”

Alisbeth sucks in a deep breath. “NO! That's what I was telling you!” She pulls the sheet over her arms and wraps it tighter around her bony shoulders.

“All the same, we had a deal.”

Grimory pretends not to notice the conversation going on at the end of the bed. “What's the issue here?” he drones.

Anarchaia gives him a shove. “You had me worried to death!” she hisses, still suppressing tears despite her relief.

The Blood Elf turns to her and his lips spread into a cocky grin. “You were worried about me?” He then grunts as her hard fingers make contact with his cheek.

Panting in rage, Anarchaia lingers for a moment then storms from the room, fists balled at her sides.

Alisbeth sinks down in shame. “I know, but you left and I had a little whiskey and—”

“You _what_?” Koltira spins in a slow circle, rubbing his hands down his face. “I can't believe you. I absolutely can't...” He stops to stare at the huge red blotch growing larger on the sheet around Alisbeth's thighs.

Grimory winces as he burns through the ropes binding his horns and sits up. The cuts on his ribs open anew and he presses a palm over what he guesses is the deepest one. “It's all right. We didn't hurt one another...too badly.” He groans. “And we have potions now, so...”

Koltira ignores the demon hunter and points at the sheet. “Show me.”

Alisbeth purses her lips and pulls back the sheet. Gashes like claw marks seep blood from her hip, buttock, and thigh. “It's fine, they have potions—”

Koltira turns his gaze on Grimory, his eyes bright with fury. “You son of a bitch!” He steps forward to throw a punch bearing all of his weight at the demon hunter's jaw.

Grimory releases a pained growl as he's punched full on the face. Blood flies from his lip and stains his pointed teeth. “She told me to do it!” His eyes burst into emerald flames. A mutated claw swipes upward from the sheets in hopes of making contact with anything.

Koltira leans back to narrowly dodge Grimory's claws.

“Stop it!” Alisbeth cries through her tears. “I did, I told him to do it!”

He doesn't listen, clasping his fists together and raising his arms over his head to throw even more of his weight into Grimory's stomach.

The demon hunter rolls out of the way moments before he's struck, planting his feet firmly on the wooden floor with gnarled claws at the ready. His head swims from the alcohol or blood loss—he's not sure. The blackness of his hands creeps up his arms. He snarls. “You're awfully jealous for just a teammate.”

Koltira grits his teeth, his nostrils flared and brow furrowed in a snarl. “I didn't give you permission to touch her,” he growls.

“Wasn't aware I needed permission,” Grimory grunts, swaying on his feet.

Alisbeth crawls forward and clambers to her feet, her legs buckling under her as her own blood loss makes her weak. “Please,” she begs. “It's my fault. Punish _me_.” She pulls at his ankle.

Anarchaia bursts back into the room with so much momentum she nearly stumbles. “What is going on in here?” She glances between Koltira and Grimory, the tension making her raise her hands should she need to do anything.

“He put his claws on her,” Koltira says.

“But I asked him to—”

Koltira grips Alisbeth’s biceps and pulls her to her feet. “And you're not supposed to have weapons! Do you remember the Troll?”

“I remember the Troll,” she whispers meekly.

His anger dwindles to see her so upset. He pulls her into his arms and strokes the length of her ivory hair. “I can't always clean up after you. That's why you're supposed to tell me what you're doing.”

Grimory and Anarchaia give one another a glance.

“Well it sounds as though it was consensual,” Anarchaia says after a moment, her shoulders relaxing. She avoids looking at either's nudity. “And if everyone's calmed down—” Her attention is pulled back to Grimory as his back collides with the wall. He slides down, leaving a trail of smeared blood. The mage bounds over to him, a potion from earlier that day already conjured in her hand. “Ugh, did it _need_ to be so violent?” She hisses, uncorking the vial.

Grimory closes his eyes and smiles once again at her fussing over him. “It's not fun if it isn't.”

She pushes the vial into his mouth before he can make more of a fool of himself. “Shut up and drink, you idiot.”

Koltira narrows his eyes. “Don't you ever touch my wife—”

Alisbeth sways and sets a finger to his lips. “Shh. Things we're not supposed to say, ’member?”

Grimory winces as his wounds begin to heal, the skin sizzling as it regenerates. The word _wife_ makes him look up at the two. A pang of guilt passes through him but he quickly pushes it back down. “There were two people involved in this decision, friend.” His smirk is gone and he glowers.

“Stop talking, Grim.” Anarchaia pulls his pants to her hand with her magic and shoves them into his hands. She presses a solid fingertip into his chest. “And stop being so careless. I'm not always going to be here to pull you out of a perilous situation.” Her knees crack as she stands back up. She turns to Koltira and Alisbeth. “Please accept my apologies for his behavior.”

“I don't- _rrgh!_ ” Grimory groans when her heel meets with his stomach.

“It won't happen again.”

“He's only mad that you hurt me,” Alisbeth sighs. She slips down, unable to support herself. Blood has trailed down her leg to pool under her foot. She lands in it with a soft whimper.

Koltira grabs her. “Shut up and heal already.”

“But—”

“Use me.”

Alisbeth reaches up her hand and splays it out over Koltira's face. His eyes roll back and he gasps as what looks like blood seeps from every pore and into her palm. When she finishes her wound is scabbed over and she appears less sickly. He falls to the floor and groans.

Anarchaia's shoulders rise again and she cringes. “H-Hold on, that's not necessary!” She quickly takes a knee by Koltira's side, another potion already at the ready. “We have plenty of these! You don't need to do that.”

 “If you fuck her, she doesn't get a weapon and you don't touch her.”

The Demon Hunter slides one of his legs into a pant leg and narrows an eye, unfazed by the sight. “You two have a strange relationship...”

Alisbeth waves the mage to leave her alone. “I just need to hunt. Can I hunt?” She pokes a toe into Koltira's face.

“Yeah, we can do that. Get us both patched up.” He glances at Anarchaia. “Save your potions for yourselves.”

Alisbeth rolls over, feeling much better. She grins at Grimory. “Next time we have to tell him first.” She winks, rolls herself in the bloody sheet, and begins crawling around the room to look for her clothes.

Grimory grumbles something under his breath in Alisbeth's direction and stands, brushing himself off and rubbing at his jaw where Koltira had punched him.

Anarchaia straightens and the potion dematerializes. She sighs heavily, putting both her hands over her face and rubbing. “HrrrrrrrrmmmmmI'm gonna go be alone for five hours.” Her hands fall to her sides and she lolls her head to one side in an exasperated manner. She shoots a look at Grim. “Please stay out of trouble until then. Please.”

“I could have handled it mys—”

“ _Please._ ”

He glowers at her for a long moment before giving an indignant _tch_ and turning his head away.

Alisbeth crawls halfway out from under the bed with a boot in her hand. “What was that?” She smiles up at Grimory.

“There won't be a next time,” Grimory whispers to her as gently as he can. He throws himself back onto the bed, hands behind his head.

Koltira drags himself to his feet and gives Anarchaia a pinched smile. “I...this probably goes on the list of complications you asked about. I honestly didn't expect it.” He runs his fingers through his hair, dragging the ends behind his shoulders. “My armor is in your room.”

Anarchaia lolls her head to the opposite side in a feeble attempt to relieve the stress from her shoulders. “It's fine,” she responds tiredly. She makes for the hallway again, her boots tapping on the floorboards. The fact that no one is out of their room and intruding on their business astounds her. She assumes everyone is in a drunken coma. “You're free to come retrieve it.”

Koltira bends to speak under the bed. “Ali, I'll be back in a minute. Do _not_ do anything.”

“Okay,” she smiles at him. “But I can get dressed, right?”

“Please do.” He catches up with Anarchaia. “Something tells me you two weren't honest about your relationship, either.”

Alisbeth pulls herself out and kneels to stare at Grimory. “Oh. I thought we had fun.” She frowns slightly. “You didn't have fun?”

Grimory opens an eye to glance at her, smiling some. “Oh, I had fun.”

Alisbeth cocks her eyebrow at Grimory. “Then why can't we do it again?”

“I don't like to mess around with married women,” Grimory responds matter-of-factly, closing his eyes once more. “Makes me feel bad.”

Alisbeth climbs up to scrutinize Grimory. “But it's okay. I didn't kill you, so it's okay. You don't have to feel bad.”

Grimory looks down at her when he feels her weight on the bed again. “It's not about you killing or hurting me.” The candlelight flickers across his face and faintly glowing tattoos.

Anarchaia stops as she opens the door to her room and jerks her head in Koltira's direction. “We're just friends.” She steps inside, unbuttoning her hood and tossing it into the armchair. Her thin fingers grasp at the back of her robe and she pulls it over her head before throwing that as well. A sigh escapes her as she sits and quickly undoes the laces of her boots, the stress of the night fueling her desire for rest.

Koltira sighs as he enters the room. He avoids staring at the mage as she undresses herself, instead focusing on re-clasping his breastplate, pauldrons, armguards and gauntlets. He clears his throat of the awkward air surrounding the four of them. “I'll be out of your hair by sun up. Ali and I just need something to fight.” He makes to leave, stopping in the doorway. “Our runeblades. Death knights are able to steal the life of our opponent and take it for ourselves. That that might interest you.” He turns to leave.

Anarchaia makes to kick her boots off but realizes the door hasn't been closed. “I'll make note of it later.” She rests her hands on the bed at her sides, the toe of one boot still pressing gently against the hem of the other. Her jaw clenches. “You don't have to leave if you don't want to. I understand if it's because of Grim, though.” Her head lowers. “And I'm not angry if that's what you're worried about.”

Koltira stares at the floor for a long moment, then lets himself out of the room without a word. He returns to Grimory's room to find Alisbeth on the bed with the demon hunter. “Ali, why aren't you dressed yet?”

The demon hunter’s eyes come to rest on Koltira in the doorway and he readjusts his shoulders to get more comfortable. “Your husband seems impatient. You should probably go spend time with him.”

Alisbeth pulls on her clothes in a furious rush. As she heads out the door she finds one of Grimory's boots, scoops it from the floor, and throws it at his groin as hard as she can. Her eyes bright with annoyance, she shoves Koltira out and closes the door before she knows if the boot actually hits him or not.

A loud cry of agony rings through the entirety of the inn.

Koltira retrieves their weapons from Bloodmist and leads Alisbeth into the woods. He stops and sighs. “We'll head back to Acherus once we've recovered.”

“Back? Why? I thought we were going on an adventure!” She smiles in excitement.

He smiles sadly. “Maybe another time.” He leads her farther from the inn, searching for wildlife.

Alisbeth goes first, healing her wounds with the life blood of a lone wolf. “I'll wait here,” she says, sitting and urging him to continue without her.

He smiles. “I won't be long.”

She returns the smile and watches his back as he disappears into the darkness. Then she stands, shoulders her axe, and takes off at a sprint.

Koltira returns to where he'd left Alisbeth, only to find emptiness in her place. “Alisbeth?” Crickets sing of the temperature. A wolf howls in the distance. The tips of the trees rustle with a soft breeze. But she does not respond. “Alisbeth!” he calls out. “ _Alisbeth!_ ” he screams as he runs through the trees, unsure where he is going, but hoping it leads him to her. He finds his way back to the inn. After a quick check to make sure she hasn't stolen Bloodmist, he races inside to the tavern. “Ali?”

But the tavern is empty.

He thunders up the stairs. “Alisbeth!” He hisses, trying to project while also trying not to wake anyone. Koltira raises his hand to knock at Anarchaia's door, but stops. Then he hears voices—hers and a male's. He backs away and continues down the hall. For the second time that night, Koltira bursts into Grimory's room. “Alisbeth?”

Grimory's eyes flutter open and he lifts his cheek from his pillow to glance over his shoulder. He sighs in exasperation and pushes his face back into the pillow. “She's not here, Captain Punch-First-Ask-Questions-Later.” He grumbles something about locking his door and closes his eyes again.

Koltira rushes down the stairs and back out to the stables, preparing Bloodmist for riding.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

Anarchaia kicks off her boots. She pulls off her mask and lets the cool night air from the open window wash over her face. She slides to the floor from her bed and digs around in her knapsack for a bit before pulling out a small crystal. Red light ekes out from the gem and spirals about as it floats lazily in her palm. She clears her throat. “Master? Are you awake still?”

“Always these days,” a voice filters through into the room accompanied with a laugh. “Has something happened between when we spoke earlier and now?”

“N-No,” she lies. “I just wanted someone to talk to. Maybe some advice.”

“I assume this has to do with the new friends you've acquired.”

Anarchaia grimaces. “Yes and no.”

Anarchaia curls her knees into her chest and wraps her free arm around them. “I just feel a bit...alone. Lately.” A silence follows that leads her to think he may have cut communications.

“You're always free to come back. You know that.”

She puts her chin between her knees. “Yeah. I do. But I said I'd do this for you. You're so busy, now.”

“I am, yes, but there are others available for the position.”

“No. I always keep my word.” She smiles to someone who can't see her. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Makes me less...anxious.”

“You've never been one to give up.” She can hear the smile in his voice and it makes her own widen. Another silence passes where her grin fades and she swallows again.

“I...miss the Hall. I miss my piano, my books.” Anarchaia sighs. “I-” She lets the words fall into nothingness before she can say them. Instead she says “I'll recover. How are you?”

“Tired.” Khadgar laughs sadly. “There aren't enough hours in the day. Even if I knew Chronomancy I don't think it'd help me much. The Burning Legion has been busy.”

“The Pub Crawl is coming up in a couple weeks, yeah? Perhaps Gri-” She catches herself, her lips pursing. “Perhaps I can come back and we can spend the week together.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The sound of papers fluttering is heard. “Speaking of alcohol, Cranston in the tavern says he's missing an entire bottle of brandy.”

“Well Cranston's a liar. And a tattle-tale.”

Khadgar gives another sleepy chuckle. “Well, if you ever find out who took it, make sure you let them know they still need to pay for it.”

“No promises.”

“Ana.”

“I'm kidding. I'll throw him some coin when I get back. With interest.”

“You said 'yes and no' to my question earlier. I've yet to hear the 'yes' part.” More papers shuffle.

“They're nice. I guess.” She draws circles on the wooden floorboards with her index finger. “You were right about the one. She's very unstable.”

“Hm. Just remember what I said. I know you're more than capable of getting yourself out of a difficult situation, but I'd rather you be safe. What about Koltira?”

Anarchaia stops drawing and glances at the door. “He's very kind. Too much so for his own good. Reminiscent of you, really. They may not join us for this assignment, though.”

“Why? What's happened?”

“Nothing I...feel comfortable speaking about. I wasn't involved, but it was very stressful regardless. I think they think I don't want them around so they said they were leaving in the morning.”

“I'm sure you two will do fine on your own.” The thought of spending another few months alone with Grimory—especially feeling how she does about him at this particular moment—makes the corner of her mouth pull up. “Yeah.”

“I'll leave you back to your studies. Sorry, Master.” Anarchaia pushes her forehead back into her knees.

“Needn't be sorry. Always good to hear from you. Let me know what happens.”

“Always do. Get some sleep, please.”

“Only if you do.” The two share a laugh.

“You love him,” Alisbeth says from the open window of Anarchaia's room. Her axe is gripped in one hand, dried blood along the blade and spikes. The death knight stays still as a statue, framed by the moonlight outside.

Anarchaia gasps loudly, fumbling with the crystal as it dims back to darkness. Her red pupils dilate as they transfix on the girl in her window. Eyes wide, she remains as still as the other. “A-Alisbeth,” the Forsaken whispers. Her throat becomes dry as parchment. “I-I don't... Who?” She flounders, trying to make conversation in some pathetic hope of distracting the death knight from her exposed face.

Alisbeth's gaze focuses on nothing as she sighs wistfully. “Both.” Her grip tightens on her axe handle. “It's not smart to keep that hidden. You never know which night will be your last.”

The mage remains as motionless as possible. Noticing that Alisbeth is seemingly distracted, she brings her mask back over her head cautiously and pushes her feet under the bed at a snail's pace. “You must be mistaken,” she says quietly. “But I agree with the notion all the same.”

Alisbeth drops her axe to the floor, a sigh gurgling through her throat. She flops onto the bed and stares out the window. “The moon is so beautiful. And your lies are so ugly.”

Anarchaia chews on her lower lip and tucks her hair back into her mask. “They're not lies. Love is a very complex thing. Also very vague.” She subconsciously moves her feet further into the shadows beneath the bed.

She curls up, her head on the pillow and her knees tucked to her chest. “I love him, you know. I really do. You should know that.”

“I never claimed you didn't.”

“You can always hear it...” Alisbeth says, her voice far away as she keeps her back to the mage, “...in the voice. The way they cry when they lose someone they love.” She pauses for a long time, taking a slow, deep breath. “Love is a complex thing. And yet you deny it in a romantic capacity when there are other forms of it.” She hums some nameless tune softly in the darkness.

Flustered by her prying words, Anarchaia leans back, supporting herself with locked elbows. “While you're correct, I fail to see the relevancy. Why do you care? What does it matter?” she presses, impressed by how suddenly well-spoken the other girl is.

Alisbeth stays quiet for a long time. “I'm staying with you.”

The mage tilts her head curiously. “Like...right now? Here in this room?”

“Yes.” She moves only the smallest amount to remove her pauldrons and drops them to the floor, then grabs the blanket and rolls it around herself.

Anarchaia can't help but smile some. “That's fine. I don't mind.” She looks away, flashbacks to earlier filling her head. “You...enjoy your time with Grim?”

She curls tighter into the blanket. “Koltira says we're leaving.”

Anarchaia suddenly feels ashamed for asking, pity filling her heart when looking upon the huddled girl on her bed. “You don't have to, you know.”

“But I always do what he says. He keeps me safe.” She sniffs. “I don't want to go back to my room.”

She hesitates and rubs at her cheek. “He loves you a lot. I'm sure if you told him how you feel he'd be eager to take it into account—”

“I'm staying with you,” she says defiantly. Alisbeth cranes her head around to look at Anarchaia. Her lips spread in a smile. “When are we starting?”

Anarchaia returns the smile and chuckles. “Whenever Grim gets his lazy, drama-inducing ass up. Or sunrise. Whichever comes first.”

Alisbeth's smile drops instantly as though it had never been there. “Sorry about Grim.”

The Forsaken girl snerks. “There's no reason to apologize.”

Alisbeth releases the blanket and crawls across the bed to get closer to Anarchaia. “You're lying again.”

She bristles and scrunches her face, frustrated. “I'm not. I was upset when I thought he was dead. You can lie with him all you want.”

“No I can't.” She smirks. “Do you want to?”

Anarchaia scowls. “No.”

Alisbeth reaches out a hand to poke the mage's nose. “Hmm? Not even a little?” Her smile goes wider and her eyes brighten.

Anarchaia allows the poking of her nose, still staring unenthused at the woman on the bed. “No,” she repeats.

Alisbeth's smile dims. Then her eyes go wide. “Oh... OH!” She lifts the blanket to cover her nose and mouth as her smile widens to crinkle the corners of her eyes.

Anarchaia straightens and places her hands in her lap. “Oh oh?” she parrots, observing Alisbeth's unpredictable behavior and taking note. A raven _rawk_ s outside with the symphony of crickets.

Alisbeth lowers the blanket to reveal her teeth biting into her bottom lip. “You _don't_ love them.” She inches closer, tilting her head coyly. “Special _girl_ in your life?”

The mage blinks and leans away, not expecting the conversation to take such a turn. “No. I don't have anyone special in my life.” She entangles her fingers beneath her knees and avoids eye contact. “I mean, I've had a couple boyfriends, but no one now.” Her eyes narrow. “Why are you so interested?”

Alisbeth cocoons herself in the blanket again. “Oh, boyfriends. So that means you _are_ attracted to fire-eyes and not, oh, Tyrande?” She flicks her eyebrows emphatically.

“He's attractive in a physical sense, yes.” She again can't help but smile at the girl's behavior and brings a hand to her mouth. “Whisperwind? I suppose she's very pretty. Tall, slim. I like that.” Anarchaia chuckles.

“But you also like Blood Elves.” She lowers her chin to the bed and smiles wider like she's never had so much fun before. “Is that why you hide your face? So no one knows you're traveling with enemies?”

She furrows her brow but continues to smile. “You're exactly right. You're very observant, you know. That must be what Koltira likes about you.”

Alisbeth wrinkles her nose. “I don't know why he likes me. The first time I met him I hit him. Just a stun. Knocked him for a loop. I wanted to hit him with something that _really_ hurt, but Tirion wouldn't have liked that.” She rolls onto her back, turning her head up to keep her eyes on Anarchaia. “I don't think he likes me anymore. Just...keeps me like a pet.”

Her smile fades when the death knight closes her story. “I don't think that,” she responds gently, lifting a knee to place an elbow on it. “I think he loves you very much. He was terrified about you being hurt. He lets you do as you please.”

She rolls over, tangling herself further into the blanket. Her eyes search the room with wild anticipation, then she sets her finger to her lips. “He won't touch me. Sometimes I can't stop myself.” Her entire face crumples as she begins to cry. “And the more I do it the more he hates me. And I'm supposed to okay it with him so he can make sure nothing happens because of the Troll.” She shoves her face into the bed and continues her rant, but it is too muffled to understand.

The sound of sudden sobbing sends a jolt through Anarchaia and she lurches forward, unable to keep herself from setting a comforting hand on the girl's head. “I-It's okay! That doesn't mean he doesn't _love_ you!” Anarchaia pets her hair gently. “Maybe he feels like you'll reject him? Perhaps death has lessened his sexual appetite? It's not uncommon, you know.” She bites her lip and inhales as her cheeks fill with heat. “Have you asked him to...you know.” She motions to her mouth with a finger and sticks out her tongue beneath her mask.

Alisbeth peeks one eye out, eyebrow cocked. She mumbles something into the gathered blankets then suddenly pops her head up, her face set in excitement, the only hint at her meltdown being a few clumped eyelashes and some moisture still under one eye. “Is that how you like it?” Her eyes go wide. “I should've had Grim do that with those _teeth_... Or you could and then tell me what it's like.” She slips Anarchaia a sly smile.

Anarchaia retracts her hand and narrows her eyes again. “Yeah I'll pass on that.” Her blush betrays her words and she clears her throat, uncomfortable. “You ask a lot of personal questions.”

Alisbeth sits up straight, indignation squaring her shoulders. “I've told you personal stuff. I told you lots of stuff. I thought that's what friends do...they share...stuff. I've never really had— That's a personal stuff. Nope. I'm done telling you personals.” She plops onto her rear, sitting cross-legged with her arms folded. She turns her head away from the mage and sticks her nose in the air. “Done.”

Anarchaia hesitates and purses her lips, the same guilt from her conversation with Koltira seeping into her. “Ugh, all right.” She fiddles with her thumbs nervously. “Grim and I have done things,” she admits after a long moment, turning her head away. “A few times, actually.”

Alisbeth glances at her from the corner of her eye. She inches forward, but doesn't turn her head. “Go on.”

Anarchaia's flush deepens and she puts a hand on her cheek. “We were drunk,” she continues, “almost every time. Not sure if that means anything. There was really no romance. Just passion.” Her face softens and she sighs, her hand falling back into her lap. “He's a good lover, if I had to give him any sort of accolade.”

Alisbeth shrugs and turns to face Anarchaia. “He's adventurous. Wasn't too crazy about having his horns tied up. Nothing a little dagger couldn't persuade him into. Completely fine with his hands being bound.” She smiles. “You should remember that next time. Write it down or something.”

She sneers beneath her mask and gives a tentative groan. “I don't think I'll be needing that information anytime soon. He's made it pretty clear it didn't mean anything.” A black feather flutters in from the night and settles on the window sill. “Besides,” the mage glances out the open window and pushes her cheek into her knuckles, a playful grin across her lips. “A raven is far more romantic, don't you think?”

Alisbeth wiggles backward out of the blanket roll and goes to the window. She picks up the feather, then leans out to look for said raven. When she sees nothing she crawls back on the bed, then drops to her stomach, the mattress groaning beneath her. She holds the feather in front of Anarchaia's mask and smiles. “Woulda got you the whole thing but it's gone.”

The mage laughs and reaches for the feather. “How thoughtful,” she hums, rolling the shaft of it between her fingers. “They're quite timid creatures, I'm not surprised it was.” Anarchaia thinks for a long moment as she admires the plumage in the moonlight. “What are you going to tell Koltira in the morning?”

Alisbeth's ears droop as she looks away from Anarchaia. She says nothing for a long time. Then shrugs. “If I hide long enough he might think I've gone deeper into the wilderness. Probably head for the nearest Forsaken camp, thinking I'd have gone there.” She sneers in disgust. “But if he never finds me...then I don't have to tell him anything, now, do I?”

Anarchaia tilts her head to rest her cheek against her shoulder, choosing not to react to the part about the camps. “You always seem to choose the most strenuous options with a high risk of either failure or negative outcomes. If you really don't think he'll listen to you, I can have a word with him in your stead.”

“He thinks I've lost my mind,” she says. “Because Thassarian must have told him. The others think I'm crazy. They kept me locked up. I didn't know how long... There wasn't a knob on my side of the door. But I counted the locks. Ten. Ten locks on the outside. And it's dark and cold. Edwards, the janitor...brings me candles. He searches the trash for candy canes no one wanted.” She flinches and looks around the room. “I should have been more careful. If I hadn't been caught, they wouldn't have locked me up.” She smiles and bounces excitedly. “What's your room like?”

Anarchaia's face softens and she frowns. “That sounds terrible. I'm sorry that happened to you. And I suppose the old saying _does_ go, 'it's not against the rules of you don't get caught'.” She chuckles. “My room only has one lock on it. On the inside. Lots of books, trinkets, a piano...” She closes her eyes. “Definitely not a prison.”

Alisbeth laughs. “That's a good saying. But it was the smell, you see? I couldn't stop them from opening my trunk. I tried, but there were more of _them_.” She sets her elbow on her thigh and presses her fist into her cheek. “That really sounds wonderful. Where is the Hall? Do you like books? What are they about? All I have in my room is a cot, a big leather chair—like that one!—and a small table with a vase on it. I stopped putting flowers in the vase because it kept breaking and they kept dying.” She bounces back into her smile. “You play the piano?”

Again she ignores the heinous information presented, not wanting to know the details. “In Dalaran. It's the tall, tall purple building.” She leans forward. “I love books more than anything. I have hundreds so it's hard to say what they're about. Memoirs, encyclopedias, novels.” Another chuckle escapes her. “I could enchant that vase of yours so that it never breaks. And I do play, yes. Do you?”

She shakes her head. “I was never musically inclined. My mother was.” She stares at the bed and smiles wide. Then it disappears, her face cast in sober reflection as she goes quiet.

“Tell me about her.” She presses the feather to her nose, watching the girl with great interest from behind her mask.

Alisbeth lays down and curls into a ball, arms wrapped around herself like a hug. The armor still on her crackles and scrapes against the other pieces. She waits a moment to reply, then says, “No.”

Anarchaia lifts her eyebrows but decides not press the issue for the sake of politeness. She glances out the window at the now fading stars. “Do you have any siblings?” Her finger returns to tracing symbols in the wood.

“No.” Alisbeth sits upright and stares down at the mage. “I'm sorry. I should let you sleep. Unless you're a nocturnal Kaldorei?” She thinks, then waves the thought away. “Sleep. Please.” She scoots back, kneeling on the edge of the bed as she straightens out the blanket and smooths it over the mattress, then smiles at Anarchaia and pats the space.

Again the mage's throat dries and she clears it into a fist. She pushes her feet further under the bed once more. “I don't sleep much. It's...part of being a mage.” She shrugs and breathes a nervous laugh. “I really appreciate your concern, though. I'll be okay.”

Alisbeth frowns at the bed she'd taken the effort to make. “Are you sure?”

A knock comes from the door to the room. Alisbeth stiffens and stares at it with wide eyes. She crawls backward off the bed to kneel on the floor and peek over the top of the mattress, the whole time making as little noise as possible.

Taking the opportunity, Anarchaia swiftly pulls her boots back over her bare toes. “One moment!” She motions for Alisbeth to sink lower behind the bed and steps to the door. With much effort she eventually forces the lock free and pulls the door open.

Alisbeth sinks down, watching Anarchaia's feet from under the bed.

Koltira gives an almost audible sigh of relief. “I'm sorry to disturb you, but, I can't find Alisbeth. I've searched the surrounding area and a few camps to the north and east.” He stares at the floor, squaring his jaw with contained anger. “Have you seen her?”

She hesitates, not having expected to have her loyalties tested. Her eyes scan his face knowing that he cannot see her stare. The muscles in the back of her neck tense. “I haven't, no.” She continues to twirl the feather between her fingers as though uninterested, thinking that will make her appear honest and innocent. “But if I happen to see her you'll be the first to know.”

Koltira leans in close to whisper. “Don't get left alone with her, whatever you do. Your life could be in danger.” He glances down the hall. “I'm sorry. This whole thing was a bad idea. She's not ready for—”

“I'm going on the adventure!” Alisbeth screams, hurling one of her pauldrons at him. “A-Anni-fanny,” she stumbles, trying to remember the mage's name, “is taking me and you're not stopping me!”

The tendons in Anarchaia’s back tighten more when Alisbeth blows her cover. She flinches when the pauldron instead collides with her own shoulder blade and clatters to the floor. A long silence passes before she brings herself to look back into Koltira's face. A wide grin passes over her lips. “Found her. Heh.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Koltira hisses, shoving past Anarchaia.

“I-” She bites her lip as she's pushed past.

He picks up the thrown pauldron and strides over to Alisbeth. He takes her by the arm and pulls her to her feet. “We're going. Come on.”

Alisbeth wriggles in his grip before kicking him in the stomach. His grip lessens enough for her to get away. She leaps over the bed and hides behind Anarchaia. “She's taking me to Stormy-Helm and we're going to...do things and stuff!”

Anarchaia makes to retort but the death knight is already using her as a shield. Turmoil rages through her mind. Side with the controlling-yet-level-headed Koltira, or volatile, unpredictable Alisbeth? Finally, she squares her shoulders and straightens. “We can reason through this. There's no need for grabbing and kicking.”

Koltira holds up his hand like soothing a wild animal. “Alisbeth, I think she's right. Would you like to come sit with me while Anarchaia helps us out?” He motions at the bed.

She peeks over the mage's shoulder from her slight crouch used to fit behind the short girl. “I can talk just fine from here. Albi is just fine with it, right?” She smooths a palm over the side of Anarchaia's mask.

Anarchaia hides her discomfort as best she can. “Y-Yes, Ali.”

Alisbeth points at Koltira, stopping him as he begins to speak. “Listen, Kolty, I don't want to go home. I want to go on an adventure. I like Grimey and I like Abadnana and I want us to all be friends.” She straightens, daring to be bold. “Atrium was just telling me that I need to tell you that...you need to lick me.” She shifts her eyes sideways, still unsure what she just demanded but it's too late to go back. Her eyes widen as she remembers the context of said licking.

Anarchaia nearly chokes on her own air when Alisbeth repeats what they'd been talking about, a hand flying to her mouth.

Koltira narrows his eyes, listening to everything and breathing in to respond, but she keeps going. At the end he's at a complete loss for words as he stares at her. “You mean Anarchaia?”

“Archaic, yes.”

“Anarchaia.”

“An archaic what?”

Koltira blinks at her. “We'll pick this up later.” He turns to Anarchaia. “A little help, here?”

The Forsaken girl smiles and lifts her hands in a helpless shrug. “I don't really mind, if I'm being honest. It's harmless. She could call me Briarthorn for all I care.” She scoffs. “That's certainly easier to remember.”

Koltira gapes at her. “Not with your name! Help me get her to come home!” He stares between the two, somehow feeling outnumbered, even though one is very likely to kill the other without a second thought.

Alisbeth shakes her head. “Nope. Nothing you can say will bring me back to the dark room. I'm helping Albus and Gallifrey. We're friends now. You can either friend with us or go away and find your own friends.” She sticks her tongue out in emphasis.

“Anarchaia and Grimory!” he shouts in frustration.

The mage holds out both hands in a defensive manner between the two. The shouting, she's decided, is the final straw. “That's enough!” She points a gloved finger at Alisbeth, poking her in her outstretched tongue. “That is rude, unnecessary, and does nothing to help your cause here. And you—” she turns on Koltira “—you need to let her make decisions for herself. I understand that she's...eccentric, but she's still got feelings.” Her brow furrows and she glances between the two. “You both want the other to be happy...don't you?”

Alisbeth frowns and her eyes shine. “I _do_ have feelings,” she says meekly.

“So do the Forsaken,” Koltira counters. Alisbeth sneers. “But you don't care about that, do you?” He scratches his ear and growls. “I tell you what, I'll make you a deal. We go on this excursion and you have to promise not to kill any Forsaken.”

“Can I still spit on them?”

“I'd rather you didn't.”

“Can't stop me.” She grips Anarchaia by the shoulders. “You can help! You just spit as you ride by and they can't do anything about it! The _best_ is getting a running gallop, and you take your axe in both hands and—”

“Ali!”

The cords in Anarchaia's neck protrude as she does her best to remain still. Her eyes narrow and she scowls despite herself. “The less _predicaments_ , the better,” she mumbles, allowing herself to be grabbed. “Hard to spit with a mask on.”

Koltira leans against the wall to think. After a while he looks at the two. “We'll stay.”

Alisbeth jumps up and down, clapping. “Best behavior, I swear. Mostly. I'll try...”

Anarchaia sighs and rubs at her face again with her palms, the feather still tucked between her third and pinky fingers, then throws them down to clasp her fingers in a ball against her chest. “Good! So it's settled?” she chirps with a smile. “No more squabbling, then?”

Koltira raises an eyebrow at her as an implied question of if she really thinks that'll be the only time.

Alisbeth runs to the window and pokes her head out to smile at the grey sunrise. “When are we leaving? Are we leaving now? Can I wake up Gringo?”

The mage sets the feather upon the end table beside the armchair. “Sure, go ahead.” She throws herself into said chair and pushes a palm into her forehead, sinking down so that her head rests near the center of the backrest. “So much for resting, I suppose.”

“You sleep!” Alisbeth insists. “I'll go wake up Gravy and keep him occupied so you can sleep.” She runs from the room.

“Keep him occupied how?” Koltira asks. His eyes widen. “Uh, yeah, rest.” He points at Anarchaia, then runs from the room in pursuit of Alisbeth.

Anarchaia watches, unenthused, as the two flee the room and pulls her robes out from under her back. “I swear to Gods,” she mutters, threading her arms into the sleeves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

Grimory snores quietly into his pillow, arm curled above his head to press it tightly to his face. The bloodied blankets remain on the floor in a heap near the wall.

Alisbeth kicks in the door and runs forward, then stops to stare at the Orc laying in the bed, staring up at her with curious eyes. She smiles wide. “Wrong room!” She turns to leave.

“Are you sure about that?” he grunts, giving her body a quick scan.

She turns around to look him over in turn. “Well, maybe...”

Koltira leans in the door and yanks her out by the back of her breastplate. “Come on. Wrong room.”

“Better luck next time!” she shouts to the Orc as Koltira closes the door.

Alisbeth kicks in the door across the hall and grins. “Jackpot!” She runs inside and leaps over the bed, landing spread-eagled across Grimory. “Rise and shine, Clementine!”

Grimory's eyes fly open and he makes to sit up only to find he's inhibited. Defeated, he pushes his face into the pillow. He winces at the lightning-like pain in his skull and groans. “Already? Can't it wait another hour?”

Alisbeth rocks side to side. “But I'm already in heeeeeeere!”

“Then don't be in here,” he growls, grabbing the pillow and throwing it over his head instead despite his horns making it difficult.

She flattens her palms on his shoulder blades and pushes him up and down. “But Anargabar said we could leave now! It's time for an adventure!”

“Who?”

“Get up, Grim.” Anarchaia rubs at the back of her neck tiredly as she stands in the doorway. “It's time to pay our tabs and go. Get dressed and packed.”

“Told you! Anabooboo said it was time to go.” She spanks his ass. “Let's go, Griffindor!”

“Be downstairs in ten minutes, please,” Anarchaia's voice fades off into the hallway.

Grimory flinches and jerks his head to look at Alisbeth through the hole between his arm and the bed. “Fine,” he breathes, putting his hands on either side of his chest and lifting his torso in hopes of shaking the death knight off him. 

Alisbeth pushes up to sit on her heels and grins. “Ten minutes!” she echoes the mage. Alisbeth leaps at Koltira, landing on his back. “I left my pauldrons in her room.”

Koltira wraps his arms under her knees and turns to give Grimory a sly smile before carrying Alisbeth from the room. “Let's go get those, then.”

Grimory narrows his eyes at Koltira and rolls out of bed before scrounging around for his belt and legplates. “Good. Close the door on your way out.”

“He said to close the door,” Alisbeth whispers as Koltira continues to Anarchaia's room.

“Oh, did he?” His grin widens. Alisbeth leaps from his back and replaces her pauldrons, then jumps on him once more.

 

~ * ~

 

Anarchaia counts coins carefully as she walks up to the bar. “How much, then?”

“Eighty-two.” The Goblin behind the counter responds, not bothering to look up from the glass she's polishing. “And seven silver.”

Anarchaia's eyes widen and she stops. “Eighty-two.”

“Yep.” The barkeep glances up at her with magenta eyes. “And seven silver.”

“Yuh huh.” The mage stands there for a long moment, an incredulous, broken grin on her face. She silently hands over the coin and readjusts her rucksack before making for the door.

“Hope to see you again!” The Goblin calls after.

Anarchaia leans against the outer wall of the inn, arms folded over her chest and waiting patiently. She sighs for what feels like the umpteenth time and looks up at the sky, admiring the gradient of bright pinks, oranges, and navy. She sinks down to sit in the dirt and stretches her forearms out to rest on her knees.

Koltira saunters from the inn, still carting Alisbeth around on his back. “Here.” He holds out a small pouch for her to take.

Anarchaia glances at the pouch and waves a hand. “Oh, no. Please. Repay me in kindness.” She smiles up at him with weary eyes behind her mask.

Grimory yawns loudly as he comes up behind the two death knights and scratches at one of his sideburns. “Do you have anymore of that tea, Ana? I could use some.”

Bitter, but not about to let a friend suffer, a mug materializes within the mage's hand followed by a small mass of water and a teabag. It settles within and, in only moments, begins to steam. She hands it over and stands. “First stop is the Weeping Bluffs.” She brushes off her behind, twisting her neck to see if she'd done an adequate job.

Alisbeth hops from Koltira's back as he heads for the stables. She reaches out and pinches a twig from the mage's robes. “Got it! So...Weeping Bluffs sounds like a nice place!” she says without a hint of irony.

Anarchaia chuckles at Alisbeth's enthusiasm.

Koltira returns with Bloodmist and takes in Anarchaia's figure. “Would the ladies care to ride?” He smiles first at the mage, a genuine smile and invitation. Then he turns his sights on Grimory, a sly smirk twitching under his cocked eyebrow. “While you rest and wake up, of course.”

The mage turns and recoils at the sight of the beast, not expecting it to be so close. She steps back. “N-No thank you. Walking is fine for me.” Her eyes lock onto the horse's and she swallows. “I don't mind.”

Taking note of the other man's wandering gaze, Grimory downs the entire, boiling mug in one drink and holds the receptacle out for Anarchaia to take back. He closes his eyes for a long moment before glancing at Koltira with contempt. “Only weaklings need rely on an animal for travel.” A grin spreads across his face then turns to a grimace as his headache pounds.

Koltira approaches the demon hunter. “How's your head?” he asks close by, much louder than necessary. He gives him a jarring pat on the back.

Grimory turns his head away and jerks as he's struck. Eyes full of irritation, he turns to Koltira with a sarcastic grin. “Fine, thanks,” he whispers, pushing past him and making his way for the path. “Briarthorn tea always does the trick.”

Alisbeth pouts. “But Bloodmist is a darling!” She nuzzles the slightly decayed flesh of the horse's face, then wraps her arms around for a hug. After a moment, she lifts her feet. As though used to this behavior, the mare shifts on her hooves to swing Alisbeth side-to-side.

Grimory kicks a small stone out of his way and gives the horse a gentle pat on the flank as he passes.

She deconjures the mug. Then, terrified of the beast's strength, Anarchaia takes another step back. “Yeah, no. I'll pass.” 

Alisbeth stands and pats Bloodmist again. Then she falls into step behind Grimory, kicks the same stone, and mimics his gait. She stops in her imitation for only a second to throw the other two a smile and usher them on.

Koltira chuckles and holds out his hand for Anarchaia to go first. “I guess we're off, then.”

Anarchaia gives a curt nod and takes a wide, arcing path around Bloodmist, then bounds off to join the other two. “If we hurry we can make it there by nightfall,” she says, pulling the map from her bag.

Grimory sends Alisbeth a sideways glance, unable to hold back a small smile upon seeing her imitation. He stretches and locks his fingers over the back of his neck. “Hurry? What for? Last I heard we aren't on any kind of set schedule.”

Alisbeth reaches up to lock her fingers behind her head as well. “So...we woke up early to go on an adventure...to walk all day?” She makes a face. “Just walking and walking and more walking?” She kicks a stone at Grimory's heel.

Koltira follows at the rear with Bloodmist close behind, staying at his back, though he holds no reigns. He listens to the conversation, but stays quiet and alert.

Grimory ignores the pebble and twists his neck to stretch that as well. “That's what Ana and I do. We walk. Walk and talk with people. Then we drink and pass out.” He smiles. “It's a pretty good setup.”

“You pass out,” the mage grumbles, looking at the map in her hands.

“I feel like there's probably a story out there about a group of people that spend most of the book walking. You're the book expert,” the death knight nudges Anarchaia, “am I right?”

She nearly stumbles, not expecting the nudge to her side. Anarchaia gives a small laugh. “There's actually a lot of books filled with adventurers who do nothing but walk.” Her eyes light up beneath her mask. “My personal favorite is a memoir about a druid who makes it his life's work to touch every corner of Azeroth. It's rather enthralling.”

Alisbeth makes a face. “Personally, I like the ones where people die. Unless I like them, then I don't want them to die. Though, there was one book I read in my room about a hunter. Loved the character but she was stupider than shit and...well, I kinda wanted her to die just so she'd stop being stupid. But I also didn't because I liked the story.”

“Sounds like a good story, then.” Anarchaia chuckles, rolling the map back up and stuffing it into her bag. “Have you read any others? Also, if you're ever interested, I have tons of books in my room that I can get at any time. They'd make for good time killers if you ever get bored of the scenery.” She glances back at Koltira with a smile, choosing not to look at the steed behind him. “That goes for you as well.”

Koltira smiles graciously, then returns to his role as silent sentry.

Alisbeth ambles closer to Anarchaia and slips her hand into the mage's, pressing their palms together. “That sounds nice.”

Anarchaia tenses somewhat at the touch and blinks. She turns her head away as her cheeks grow warm. “S-So what do you guys do for fun? When you aren't looking for adventures with strangers?”

Grimory senses the tone shift in the mage's voice and turns briefly to see the issue, then purses his lips and returns to leading the pack. “And not telling people about your relationship,” he mutters to himself and pulls his ears back.

Alisbeth giggles and sing-songs, “You didn't ask.” She pauses. “Well, you kind of did. But there's a good reason we don't tell people. We've never told people. You're the only ones besides Thassarian, now that Tirion and Faltora are...” She frowns and turns an apologetic stare on Koltira. “Sorry.” He shrugs. She turns back around and wipes a tear that's creeping down her cheek. “I miss Tirion. I didn't get to say goodbye. I heard there was a siege on Light's Hope...someone trying to resurrect him?” She goes quiet and sighs. “I wish they had.” Her mood shifts again as though she'd never been sad in her life. “For fun I like to cut heads off—”

“Alisbeth!”

She giggles and grins, tilting her head sideways at Anarchaia. “Things I'm not supposed to say out loud.”

The sudden topic of the loss of a loved one makes the mage clench her jaw and she readies a response, but the words flutter away on the breeze when the topic passes. “It's fine.” She knows the end of the sentence but waves a dismissive hand anyway. “Anything else? Card games? Chess? Fishing, perhaps?” Anarchaia casts a quick glance between the two, still holding Alisbeth's hand within her own. “We'll be together for a while so finding things we have in common is wise.”

Alisbeth stares at the ground, kicking pebbles with each foot. She shrugs. “I don't remember.”

Koltira's eyes finally find the girls' clasped hands. He adds them to his mental checklist of things to keep an eye on.

Anarchaia grunts and turns back to face forward, her features falling into unimpressed defeat. An awkward silence breezes through the lot and she squirms inside. She opens her mouth to bring up another topic but after a beat she closes it again, instead choosing to tread in silence. The stars disappear as the sun lifts and clouds that look like smeared paint litter the sky. A hawk cries overhead and a chilled wind blows through the evergreens.

Grimory perks at the sound of flowing water and is reminded that he hasn't bathed in nearly a day and a half. He stops and turns to Anarchaia, motioning with a thumb. “I hear a river somewhere near here. Mind if we take a quick break?”

“We'll make camp by a lake, Grim. If we stop now we won't make it there by tonight—”

“That's fine.” The Blood Elf waves a hand and steps off the path toward the brush. “We're not in a hurry.”

Alisbeth perks at mention of water. She runs a hand over her hair matted with dried blood and touches the sticky mess on her neck. She releases Anarchaia's hand and sprints after Grimory, sliding on the dirt to collide with his back. “Oof!” She squints up at him. “Well? Lead the way so I can clean up _your_ mess.”

Grimory stands sturdy as he's collided into and turns to furrow his brow down at Alisbeth. “I'll show you afterward. I'm going first.” He pauses to watch her reaction. “And you aren't coming with.”

Anarchaia lolls her head back to sigh dramatically toward the sky above. She finds a cushy spot in the crass beside the path and settles down, legs crossed. “I swear it's like travelling with a child sometimes,” she grumbles, her note scroll and quill poofing into existence before her.

Alisbeth gapes up at him. “Are you serious? You'd rather waste time than just show me? Are you afraid of letting me see you naked?”

“If I was afraid of letting you see me naked then last night wouldn't have happened, would it have?” he hisses through his sharp teeth, voice low.

Koltira chuckles and waves her back. “Come on, just let him be.”

Grimory glances up at Koltira then back at Alisbeth with a snarky grin. “Listen to your buddy.” He turns back to trudge into the trees.

Alisbeth skitters back to Koltira. He takes her by the arm and leans in to whisper in her ear. “Remember what I taught you in Eversong?”

She glances up at him, then her face twists into a devilish grin. In less time than it should have taken, she strips her armor off, leaving only her linen shirt and trousers. She races back after Grimory, stepping carefully and avoiding rustling any leaves.

Koltira gives Anarchaia an innocent grin.

Anarchaia returns the smile, unsure of what the two were up to but not particularly caring—she figures Grimory deserves whatever he gets at this point. She leans back to lie in the grass and stare up at the sky. The parchment follows to float before her face and obscure her view. The quill scribbles.

 

~ * ~

 

Grimory finds a secluded spot to strip, folding his pants neatly and setting them in the grass with this boots and leg armor. He pulls a single bar of soap from his small pack and tosses it in the air once, letting it spin before catching it again and giving a hum, happy to have the chance to get clean.

Alisbeth strips, then takes a running leap, screaming in excitement as she crashes into the water back-first. She scrunches up her face in a triumphant grin at Grimory. “Didn't hear me, did you? _Did you?_ Ever seen a paladin stealth? Well _now_ you have.” She ducks under the water to swish at her hair.

Grimory gives an exasperated sigh and steps into the water. “I'm more amazed by the fact that I thought you'd listen to me.” He throws water over his shoulders and sits so that the slowly running surface is at his chest. “Why do you feel the need to harass me?” he says in a semi-serious tone, rubbing the bar of soap between his palms to build a lather.

Alisbeth emerges, spitting a stream of water in Grimory's direction. “Harass? I'm not harassing. I thought we were friends, Gilderoy. We had fun last night, right? Friends have fun together.” She looks around and frowns. “I didn't bring my soap.” Her lower lip pokes out in annoyance with herself.

He chooses to ignore her question and instead leans forward to throw water into his hair followed by the lather. He scrubs at his scalp and holds out the bar. “Use mine, then. Unless you don't want to smell like a man.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes at him. “Aren't you concerned I might contaminate it with my _fun_?”

Grimory tilts his head back and smooths his hair, arm still outstretched. He sighs. “No, I'm not. It _was_ fun, okay? I just...didn't know you were taken.”

She purses her lips and takes the soap, lathering some through her hair. “Okay but...we can be friends, right? And then, maybe one day, if you're feeling lonely...” She winks and passes back the soap to tip back and rinse her hair.

The demon hunter rinses his mane, making sure to rub his face as well. He pulls down an ear to clean that also. Memories of the night before invade his mind and he gives a small grin. “Yeah, we can be friends. Just keep your guard dog at bay, okay?”

Alisbeth splashes water on her face and rubs at her neck. “Kolty? No, he's just...we have an agreement, um... He...stands watch normally. He makes sure that I don't... You know...” She laughs and shrugs.

Grimory lifts an eyebrow and scrubs the other ear, then rubs the bar over both horns, leaving scrapings of soap in the grooves. “So you don't what? Kill me?”

Alisbeth scrunches one eye to think. “Yep! Ever since the Troll.” She smiles brightly.

The demon hunter dips half of his head in the water to rinse a single horn. “Oh? A Troll? Do go on.”

“Oh.” She _tsks_ and bats at the water dismissively, then moves in closer and smiles to share her juicy secret. “Okay, since we know each other now I can tell you this thing I'm not supposed to talk about! I found a Troll in the tavern and we went up to his room and I told him not to touch me. No hands. No kissing. Those are the rules. And he broke the rules. So I punished him. He shouldn't have broken the rules.”

Grimory tilts his head in the opposite direction and lifts his eyebrows in genuine intrigue. “Punished, you say? Good or bad punish?”

Alisbeth shrugs. “Well, do you think having your own axe buried in your chest is a good punishment or a bad one? I think it's good. Gotta follow the rules.” She smiles sweetly and holds out her hand for the soap.

Grimory slowly hands the bar back. He clears his throat. “So...if _I_ don't follow the rules...?”

Alisbeth clambers out of the stream to kneel on a rock, her back to Grimory, and soap down her entire body before handing the bar back. “Well, I mean...you _didn't_. But I had to make new rules for you. That's why he got mad, he didn't know the new rules.”

Grimory stands as well but remains in the water. He runs the bar over his abdomen and thighs. “So you're saying I'm special?” His fangs peek through his lips as he grins, gazing up at her from behind his brows.

“ _You_ turn into a beast man and your teeth are...” She stops, remembering what she'd told Anarchaia the night before. She gives a shy giggle and slides back into the water to rinse.

Grimory sinks back down to a sit, crossing his legs and lifting a clawed foot out of the water. “You have a teeth fetish?” he asks as nonchalantly as he can, a smile still spread across his features.

Alisbeth shrugs casually. “What does it matter?” She wades over to stand so close she can feel the heat of his skin. “You don't want to have fun with me anymore.” She reaches out to tap her fingertip to his nose, then continues past him.

Grimory's eyes scan over her body of their own accord. He turns away and stands once more. “I suppose there can be...exceptions.” He pushes past her to step onto the shore. “Especially if what you say is true about your husband.”

Alisbeth gives a short “Ha!” Then once on the shore she does a quick twirl, one palm on her belly. “Did I get it all?”

Grimory gives Alisbeth a once over and smiles, placing his hands on his hips. “Sure did. How about me?” He turns to expose his back, not bothering to cover the star-shaped scar on his hind cheek. “Any bubbles?”

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip, enjoying the view and having already forgotten why she was staring.

Grimory glances over his shoulder and grins. “Is that a no?”

Alisbeth's attention snaps to the demon hunter's face. “You're clean.” She spins on her heel and stomps away to glare at her dirty clothes. She gathers them up, holding them to her front, and heads back to where the other two are waiting, her nose stuck in the air as she blatantly avoids looking back at Grimory.

Vexed, Grimory turns to his own clothes with a shrug. “Maybe she's gained a conscience.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
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Koltira shifts in the awkward silence until deciding to speak. “I feel there is something...wrong? Do you have anything you need to say to me?”

Anarchaia tilts her head to look at him and lowers a brow. She turns to lie on her side and props her head up with a fist. The parchment again follows. “You kept her in a room?”

Koltira clenches his jaw. “No, _I_ didn't.”

Anarchaia lifts her free hand up in a defensive manner. “I wasn't implying anything. It was just an assumption...that happens to be wrong.” She rolls back onto her back and laces her fingers over her diaphragm. “But it's ultimately none of my business. I apologize.”

Koltira drops to sit by the roadside. “The all-knowing Khadgar didn't tell you where I was, did he?”

Anarchaia purses her lips at what may have been a pass at her teacher but otherwise shows no signs of annoyance. “Undercity.”

“Then maybe you also know _why_ they locked her up?” Koltira asks. He doesn't wait for a reply. “Okay, yes, it's my fault. The last time I saw her she was alive. When they came to rescue me and I saw her...”

Anarchaia again puts her hands up. “Like I said, I wasn't making any accusations. Not sure how long ago this was but she seems really upset about it now. I...felt badly for her.” Her fingers again rest on her abdomen. “I'm sure you don't want her in there, either.”

Koltira sighs. “I've only been out for a few months. I was gone for six years. I don't want her in there, but compared to the alternative?” He shakes his head. “I'm glad Thassarian thought of such a compromise.” He runs his fingers through his long white hair and looks around, before his gaze settles back on Anarchaia. “What are you writing this time?”

Anarchaia frowns beneath her mask and decides to ignore his final inquiry. She hesitates and the quill stops. “I'm sorry you had to go through that. It must have been awful.” She swallows. “I'm surprised you...don't hate us, too.” She knew she had no ties to any Forsaken in any other part of the world but the logic was still there.

Koltira says nothing as he pushes a pebble around with his fingertip. “You aren't the ones that kept me prisoner.” He stands and collects Alisbeth's armor, dusting it off and setting it in a saddle bag. “This topic is dreary. No need to keep on it.”

Anarchaia fidgets with her thumbs at the quill continues scribbling. She runs her tongue over her lips, frantically searching for a new subject. “I'm sorry if I came off as rude or upset last night.” The quill and parchment melt into nonexistence in swirls of purple smoke. “I'm not used to so much...action. It was overwhelming. I wasn't angry.”

Koltira chuckles. “I think I remember warning you that Alisbeth can get excitable. Never a dull moment. I think the calmest I've ever seen her for the longest amount of time was last week when I caught her on the second-floor balcony...spitting on Grimwing's head.” He laughs a little harder. “I know it's probably awful to you, but, for her it was just the most simple, fun thing to do. I should've stopped her, but, eh, she has a beautiful smile.”

Anarchaia grins at the sound of Koltira's laugh and sits back up. “You love her a lot. It's really nice to see.” Her face softens and she glances down at a flower near her fingers. “You're both very lucky.”

Koltira cringes. “I wouldn't say lucky, but you're right that I love her. To the moons and back. No matter how much her behavior can hurt.”

Every moment that someone had ever flinched at her appearance—every sneer, giggle, gasp, rejection—races through Anarchaia's mind in a fraction of a moment. “I'd say you're pretty lucky,” she responds, running a finger over the petals of the small flower.

“Nah,” he growls. “This subject is as bad as the last...for you.”

“Only I don't mind being sad every now and again,” the mage says, giving Koltira a sideways glance.

He watches her play with the flower. “You like flowers?”

She looks at the flower and flips the little yellow petals upward, then watches them settle back into place. “I do. Most women do.”

“Alisbeth likes Mageroyals. I've been too busy to get her any. Soon, though, after all this is done. What's your favorite?” Koltira checks to see if the other two are returning, then sits back on the ground.

“Roses,” Anarchaia responds with a snort. “Cliché, I know.” She turns to him and stands, again brushing off her backside. She trots to his side and leans over him with a grin. “No need to wait, you know,” she hums, her ams behind her back.

Koltira stares up at the mage grinning over him. “Wait? For what?”

Anarchaia brings her hands around to the front of her and makes a show of exposing the insides of the sleeves of her robes. She gives a wiggle of her fingers and reaches up one of them, then, with a dramatic _Ha!_ , pulls out a fully prepared bouquet of Mageroyal, the pink petals fluttering about with the momentum. “Eh?” She offers the bundle, parchment, twine, and all.

Koltira laughs and takes the offered bouquet of herbs. “Thank you, I'll be sure to let Ali know your part in this. Earn you some safety points.” He gives her a subtle wink.

Anarchaia waves a hand and settles across from him, making sure she can see the horse and that it's at a safe distance. “No need to do that. Just tell her you gathered them while they were gone.” The thought of what the other two may be doing crosses her mind and she sobers. She runs her fingers through the grass. “At this rate we won't make it to the bluff.”

Koltira shakes his head. “I can try, but she knows when I'm lying to her. She says I grin like an idiot.” He checks the sun in the sky. “If we keep walking, you're right. But Bloodmist very fast and you've got that blink thing you do. Your friend can... Whatever. He's on his own.” He waves his hand dismissively.

She casts a nervous glance at the mention of the horse again. “I'd run out of mana eventually, but I could probably do it. Heh.” Anarchaia turns her attention back to the woods and fidgets with her thumbs once more. “He flies.”

Koltira begins to notice the pattern of pausing and staring. He cocks an eyebrow at Anarchaia. “Is Bloodmist bothering you? I know deathchargers can be off-putting, but she'll grow on you.” He gives her a kind smile.

Anarchaia shakes her head. “I'm sure she's a lovely horse. I'm just...not a fan.” She makes to say more but is distracted by the rustling in the woods. “About time,” she mumbles.

Alisbeth stops to stand over Anarchaia and Koltira, water dripping from her as she holds her clothes to cover as much of her front as possible, as though somehow she's gained a sense of modesty. “These are dirty,” she states.

Koltira glances up at her, an eyebrow cocked at her new attitude. He jumps up to get her a change of clothes. “Everything okay?”

Alisbeth ducks into a bush to put on her new clothes, then drops the dirty ones on the road to be abandoned. She turns to give Anarchaia a blank stare. “Your friend is weird.” She then spins on her heel and climbs onto Bloodmist to wait.

Grimory returns moments after, dry hair neatly styled. “Your turn, Ana,” he calls, fingers laced behind his skull.

Anarchaia gathers the clothes on the ground. “I can wash these, you know. I clean our laundry every night.” She folds them up and stuffs them in her bag, the thought of wasting them bothering her. Alisbeth shrugs indifferently. “And I'll bathe at night.” _When you've gone to sleep. Like I always do._ She casts a glance at Alisbeth and her words then turns back to the path before them. “Let's continue then.”

Koltira leans in close, a hand on Alisbeth’s knee. “Ali...” He decides to just hold up the bouquet.

Alisbeth glances down at him with only her eyes. Then does a double take. She throws herself from the horse and onto Koltira, knocking him to the ground as she wraps her arms around him and squeals excited words into his neck that not even he can understand.

“I'm glad you like them,” he laughs. He casts a thankful smile to Anarchaia.

Grimory scoffs at the sight and continues along the path, leaving the rest behind.

Anarchaia gives an endearing grin in return then lifts a thumb when she remembers he can't see. She glances at Grimory down the road and jogs after him. “Grim, wait for the rest of us!”

“Come on, let's go,” Koltira says.

Alisbeth jumps up and runs barefoot down the path to catch up with Anarchaia. “Lookit what Kolty gave me!” She presses the bundle into her own face to smell it, then holds it out for the mage to smell. The mage pretends to give the bouquet a sniff and nods. Alisbeth turns her head to grin at Koltira, then leans in to whisper at Anarchaia. “We'll just let him think that I think that he got these on his own, okay?” She plucks a flower from the bouquet and holds it out for the other girl to take. “Thank you.”

Taken by surprise at the girl's deductive abilities, Anarchaia gives a grin of defeat. She takes the flower and tucks it in her belt. “You're welcome.”

Alisbeth wraps a quick squeeze around Anarchaia's shoulders. “They all think I'm crazy, but could I have figured that out if I was?” She taps on her own temple. “My mind is sharp as ever.” She straightens and pulls another flower from the bouquet, shoving the bundle in Anarchaia's grasp. “Hold this.” With a running leap, she jumps on Grimory's back, wraps her arms around his shoulders, and holds on for dear life.

 _Crazy people don't often know they're crazy,_ Anarchaia thinks to herself, smiling in Alisbeth's wake.

Grimory grunts at the sudden weight on his back. “The hell are you doing?” he growls, arms flailing to reach her. “Ana, help!”

“Hm? Sorry. I'm suddenly stricken with deafness.”

Koltira bites into his cheek, trying not to laugh at the flailing demon hunter.

Alisbeth slips the mageroyal into Grimory's hair, tucking it behind his ear. “What were you saying about exceptions?”

Grimory stops resisting when it gets him nowhere, instead placing his large palms over her arm to hold Alisbeth steady, allowing the flower in his hair. “Nothing,” he grumbles low enough for only them to hear..

Alisbeth plants her shins at his waist and boosts up closer to his face. “Didn't sound like nothing.” She pokes the corner of his lips to get him to open his mouth. “So, I had an interesting conversation last night. You got a thing for night elves, right? Is that what it is?”

Grimory stops walking and shrugs Alisbeth from his shoulders. He kneels and threads his arms through her thighs, pulling her up to sit across them instead, stands, and continues. “No, actually. I'm not into Night Elves. Too tall.”

Alisbeth squeals as he lifts her, gripping his horns to keep steady. “But, the short one said you fucked her. I think. She said you did stuff.” She leans her forearm casually over the top of his head and glances around at the scenery. After a moment she twists at the waste to wave excitedly at Koltira.

Koltira returns her smile, though less enthusiastic. When she spins back around his face falls into a glare. He picks up his pace to stand nearer to Anarchaia. “If you say I don't need to worry about _that_ , then I won't. But if you say it's a reason to hit him...”

Anarchaia turns to respond to Koltira, then skitters away a few paces at the sight of the horse. She gives a bit of a laugh, doing her best to act cool. “As far as I'm concerned, you don't need a reason,” she replies, keeping her voice down despite the distance.

The demon hunter furrows his brow in confusion. “I have no clue who you're talking about. I've never fucked a Night Elf in my life.”

Alisbeth hunches over his head to look upside-down into his eyes. “Adele? Your mage friend? ... Wait, you don't know she's Kaldorei?”

Koltira clicks his tongue and motions across the road. Bloodmist saunters to the other side and Koltira moves closer to the mage again. “I don't need a reason to hit him, either. But I need to know if he's giving me one right now. She and I have an agreement, a fucked up one, I'm sure you've decided, but it works for her. I know right now _she_ is being friendly, but is _he_...” He stops talking to seethe at how jealous he's sounding. “I'm sorry.”

Anarchaia once again holds up her hands when he implies her feelings on the matter. “No, no, I'm not judging. I think anyone should be able to do what makes them happy. Heh.” She rubs idly at her arm. “There's no need to be sorry. If it were me I'd be fairly jealous, too.” She shrugs. “But what do I know, right? Heh.”

Grimory pauses to think. “She is? I guess I'd never figured.” He shrugs. “Then yeah, I suppose. Short ones, anyway.” He narrows an eye suspiciously. “What did she tell you?”

Alisbeth spreads her fingers through his hair, letting the soft tufts tickle her skin. “She said you did stuff when you were drunk. You were also drunk last night. Do you only fuck when you're drunk? Cause that'd be a shame. How much do you remember? Oh, oh! I also told her that you should use your teeth more.” She pinches his hair into clumps, trying to fix his style.

Grimory flushes. “She told you all that, huh?” He bites at the inside of his lip. “No, I don't. The alcohol just makes it more fun. And I doubt I'll be having any opportunities to 'use my teeth'. She's been pretty cold as of late.”

Koltira grumbles as he still has no idea what sort of man Grimory. “Ali!” She spins around to smile at him. “You got a good view from up there?”

“I do!” she calls back. “I don't see anything, though. I was busy talking to our new friend!” Koltira nods absently and Alisbeth returns her attention to the blond hair in her fingers.

He turns his head slightly to listen to Koltira, then smirks. “You sure he's okay with this?”

Alisbeth's mouth migrates to one side as she thinks. “I don't know. I don't have any friends. I'm sure he'd like for me to have friends. Unless we're not friends.” She hunches to stare in his eyes again. “Are we friends?”

He looks up at her with bright green eyes and grins. “Do you want to be?”

She gives him a scrunched-up grin. “I like having friends.” When she sits up she looks down at the hair she'd been fixing and glares at it, then starts fixing it all over again.

“Then we're friends,” he responds, closing his eyes and grinning in satisfaction. “Should earn me less punches to the face, now, right?”

Alisbeth smirks and balls up a fist to punch him lightly in the cheek. “I can't make promises on what you earn or don't.” She runs her palms over the tops of his horns and smiles with satisfaction. “I like having friends.”

Anarchaia averts her gaze from the two and stretches. Her bones pop and she glances at the sun to gauge the time. _Only a bit farther._

 “Am I going to have to put you back together?” Koltira jokes on the lightest of whispers.

Grimory chuckles as he's “punched” and pretends to recoil with the blow. “I suppose that's fair.”

Anarchaia blinks before giving a laugh. “Maybe carry me to the bluffs, first.” She gives another glance ahead and, still smiling, mumbles “then throw me off them.”

“You aren't ruining my hair up there, are you?”

Alisbeth bites her lips close and stares at the mess she's trying to fix. “No, no, your hair looks great!”

 “Why don't I believe you?”

Alisbeth frantically does her best to fix what she's done, realizing she has no idea how it had looked in the first place.

Koltira cocks his eyebrow at her, his gaze sliding to follow the raising of her head. “Ohhh...”

Anarchaia gives the death knight a sideways glance, pursing her lips beneath her mask. She hadn't expected him to hear. “Ohhh?”

Koltira chuckles. “Yes, 'Oh.'“ He shakes his head. “You seem like you have an appreciation of Ali's mount. Why don't you ask her for a turn?”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes at Koltira, her lips thinning more. “I'd rather ride your horse,” she spits bitterly.

Koltira shakes his head. “No you wouldn't. You'll actually stand near Grimory. Bloodmist...not so much.” He reaches down and wraps an arm around her waist to pick her up. “I can help get you up there, if you want.”

Anarchaia gasps quietly and pushes her hands against the man's arm. “Th-That won't be necessary!”

Grimory turns to glance at the commotion behind him then turns back around, an unamused glare in his eyes. “Just put it back the way you found it, yeah?” he calls up to Alisbeth.

“Are you sure?” Koltira asks. “You weigh almost nothing. Just go up, drag Ali down and pop you right up.” He gives her a charming grin. “Piece of cake.”

Alisbeth frowns. “I am. I totally am. I got this.” She bites her lower lip and concentrates like her life depends on fixing his hair.

Anarchaia stares down at him, scared of what he's planning on doing. “I-I'm fine, truly. You can put me down.”

Koltira contemplates being an asshole and doing it anyway, a devious smirk crossing his lips—if for no other purpose than to get Alisbeth down from the other man's shoulders. He looks up at Anarchaia, unable to see how she really feels about it due to her mask. But then he remembers the pretty girl so terrified of showing the world her face. He sighs and lowers her back down to the ground. “Only because you insist.”

Anarchaia takes a moment to place a hand over her pounding heart. “Thank you,” she breathes, suddenly feeling guilty for being a wet cloth.

Koltira shrugs. “I guess I just can't be an asshole.”

She gives him a grin as if sorry for making a fuss. “I guess that makes two of us.”

 “Seriously,” Grimory grumbles again, “what are you doing up there? If I find any braids...”

Alisbeth stops to think. “You know, I don't think you have enough hair _to_ braid. And if you didn't want me up here then why am I up here?”

 “Never said I didn't want you up here.”

“Hey, uh, Gringott? I have a confession.” Alisbeth sneers down at the top of his head. “I may have ruined your 'do. And I kind of can't fix it.”

An irrational panic sets inside of him and Grimory tilts his head back to look at her. “You're joking, right? Please say that you're joking.”

Alisbeth smiles innocently. “It's just hair, right?”

“All right, time to get down.” Grimory stops and kneels for her to get off. “You've lost hair touching privileges.”

“But I can fix it!” She wraps herself around his head and holds on.

“You had a chance to fix it!” He grabs her arms and tries too pry them from his eyes so he can see. “No more.”

Anarchaia snerks as she passes the two, not bothering to stop and assist.

“And how are you going to fix it? Huh? Do you have a mirror in your back pocket?”

Koltira bites his lips together to keep from laughing as he follows Anarchaia.

Alisbeth releases Grimory's head and stumbles over him to catch the others. “Oh! My flowers!” She takes the bouquet and presses a kind shoulder snuggle into Anarchaia. She gives Koltira a passing kiss on the cheek, then hops onto Bloodmist, sitting cross-legged in the saddle to hunch over the flowers.

Grimory messes his hair with his hands and lags behind, grumbling incoherently.

Anarchaia turns around and addresses Grimory as she walks backwards. “Here,” she says, a large orb of water materializing in her hand.

“No, I can—” He flinches as he's drenched, his hair falling down into his face. He scowls. “Thanks.”

Alisbeth and Koltira turn to watch the demon hunter get drenched. Koltira turns around with a satisfied smile. Alisbeth laughs outright and pauses in her unknown project with the flowers.

Grimory summons flames to engulf his hands and uses the heat to dry and style his hair one more.

“Do it again!” She shouts.

“Gladly.”

His eyes widen at the sight of another ball of water. “No, wait—!” He curses loudly when it collides with his head.

Anarchaia smiles, satisfied, and turns back around.

Alisbeth laughs until she falls forward over the saddle horn.

Koltira tries, and fails, to hide his grin. “I think I'm really going to like this adventure.” He pats Anarchaia's shoulder and continues on.

Smoothing his hair from his face, Grimory grabs Anarchaia roughly by the hood and forces her to fall back in step with him. <<What the hell is your problem??>> he hisses in Darnassian.

Anarchaia scowls up at him and readjusts her clothes. <<Nothing. Just having a bit of fun at your expense. Can you not take it?>>

Alisbeth cocks an ear back, but gives no indication that she can catch a few hissed words between them. _My Darnassian is rusty._ She sneers at no one at her thought. She finishes her project and holds aloft a circlet of flowers. “A-ha!” She sets it on the saddle horn and turns to dig through a saddle bag. Once she finds what she wants she begins stripping, keeping her balance with one foot in a stirrup.

Koltira glances up, but only cocks an eyebrow.

<<No, you've been rude to me since we met these two. You—>> He stops and glances between Alisbeth and Anarchaia (ignoring the fact that the former is stripping), then narrows his eyes. <<Are you jealous?>>

Anarchaia's scowl deepens and she turns her head away. <<Get over yourself.>> She shoves past him to catch up with the others, pulling her hood back up.

Alisbeth pulls a dress over her head, the fabric of which is a shining silk, yellow with age, though it was once a creamy ivory. Then she shoves the wreath around her head and hops down from the death charger. She allows Koltira to spin her around once before she drifts over to Anarchaia as though carried by clouds. A dreamy smile is painted on her face, eyes calm and a lazy smile. She taps the mage on the nose through her mask, then spins around her. She drifts ahead of the group, spinning and weaving—dancing to music in her own head. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

The sun reaches the tree line after a long day’s journey. The crickets awaken and the birds retire. A comfy spot is chosen among the evergreens and ferns. Anarchaia uses her magic to assemble a hide tent while Grimory goes off to collect kindling for a fire.

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip as she watches Anarchaia build a tent. She takes note as Grimory leaves. Torn on what to do and how to help she instead changes back into her linen trousers and shirt, lovingly rolling up her dress to pack it away again.

“If there’s any sort of clothing you’d like washed please hand it over now,” the mage says, pulling Alisbeth’s soiled clothes from her bag. “I’ll wash them for you.”

“I’ve nothing that needs washing, yet,” Koltira says, “except myself. But if you would like help, I’d gladly accompany you. I’m sure Alisbeth has watching over the camp under control.” Alisbeth grins in response.

“O-Oh. Uh, I don’t need any help, what with this and all.” She wiggles her fingers much like Koltira had when assisting her with the door to her room. “But if you’re looking for something to do I won’t deny you.” Anarchaia lifts the laundry into the air and makes in the direction of the nearest water according to the map. “I suppose the company would be nice, too.”

“Are you going to be all right?” he asks with a hand on Alisbeth’s waist.

She nods emphatically. “Oh, yes. Guard duty. I got this.” She grins wide and gives two thumbs up.

Koltira laughs and kisses her forehead. “Keep it safe.” He jogs to catch up to Anarchaia.

Alisbeth walks the camp’s perimeter, humming to herself. As an afterthought, she takes her axe and slings it over her shoulder.

Grimory returns to the camp with an armful of twigs and broken branches. He glances around upon finding only Alisbeth. “Where’re the other two?” he grumbles, tossing the wood to the ground in a pile and watching the death knight as she paces.

Alisbeth squares her jaw and narrows her eyes as she marches up to Grimory. She sets the point of her axe up to his jaw. “What business have you in this camp, sir?”

Grimory lifts an eyebrow at her, unflinching. He grins. “Just looking for some things to pilfer. See anything that looks valuable lying around?”

The glow of the red mist from her axe casts a light under his face. She smirks, thinking just how much more demonic he looks. “The mage keeps her things in the air, not lying around. The death knights keep their belongings on the horse, but, Bloodmist will fight back. So...no. Nothing valuable here.” She retracts her axe and drops it on one shoulder, then spins the handle so it twirls behind her head.

Grimory spits a small cinder into the heart of the pile and the twigs slowly become engulfed in green fire. “Hm. Shame.” He sits against a tree trunk and kicks off his boots. “Seriously though, where did they go?”

Alisbeth casts her gaze around, spinning in a slow circle. She stops and points. “That way. I think.” She turns a few more inches and stops. “No, that way.” She spins completely around and squints. “That way?”

Grimory furrows his brow in mild frustration. “You know what? Nevermind. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Alisbeth says. “You know what _does_ hurt?” Without waiting for a response she swings her axe around to embed one of the spikes in the front of her thigh. She clenches her jaw and gives Grimory a half grimace, half grin. “Oh! They went to wash clothes!” She spins, her axe still in her leg as she holds the handle. “That way. For sure that way. See? Footprints.”

Grimory flinches and leans away, one eye narrowed at the sight before him. “It doesn’t bother you?”

Alisbeth stares at her leg. “Oh, it bothers me a little, mostly because it’s stuck. I think I hit bone.” She drops to her back to tug on the axe, grabbing the skull in the middle and pulling until the fangs cut into her fingers and palms.

Grimory cringes and stands, doing his best to not act disgusted. “Here, let me help.” He reaches for the handle. “Honestly, woman. You amaze me sometimes.”

“Amaze you how?” Alisbeth asks, allowing him to help her. “Like a good kind or a bad kind?”

Grimory gives the axe a good tug, wrenching it free and shielding himself from the spray. “In the middle?”

Alisbeth slaps her hand over the wound and sits up, taking her axe and propping it in the fire to heat one of the spikes. “I’m not sure if I should be okay with that or offended.”

“In the middle?” Grimory repeats, looking around for Anarchaia’s bag. “Uhm... there should be some bandages around here somewhere.”

Alisbeth waves a dismissive hand at him. “I can just cauterize it. No need to waste bandages.” She tests her axe with a few quick taps, purses her lips at it, and returns to waiting.

Grimory waits for a beat as well. “Uh...when, exactly?”

Alisbeth taps at the spike again and furrows her brow. “Uhh...”

Grimory hesitates. “Uh...I’m not really good at the whole cauterizing thing just yet, but...?” He gestures to her bleeding leg.

Alisbeth shoots Grimory a wry smile. “You’re just trying to get your hands on me again, aren’t you, Grimsby?”

Grimory bristles at the questioning of his character. “Or maybe I just don’t want you to bleed out.”

Alisbeth’s smile intensifies. “Whatever you have to tell yourself... Okay, manhandle me Goldrinn.” She leans back, keeping her palm to her thigh as she raises it up for him.

He swats her hand away to replace it with his own. “It’s Grimory.” Emerald fire glows in a puff between his palm and her thigh and he can feel the heat on his face.

Alisbeth clenches her teeth, then screams out as the burn of her flesh becomes too much to bear.

Grimory flinches at the shriek and pulls his hand away. “I’m sorry! Are you all right?!”

“Did you finish?” Alisbeth demands. 

~ * ~ 

The mage trudges through the foliage until she comes upon the expected lake in a clearing surrounded by tall trees. The surface is like glass and all is calm as the pinholes of stars reflect within it. The Forsaken woman shrugs and pulls off her robes and hood. “Never expected the map to be so accurate,” she laughs back when he catches up.

Koltira nods. “That’s always nice.” He scratches behind his ear, suddenly forgetting why he’d been so eager to get the mage alone again. He smiles and finds a place to sit on the bank of the lake.

The clothes—under Anarchaia’s command—flutter into a single mass. She throws her own robes into the bunch as well as a bar of scented soap. The water of the lake rushes up to encase the laundry. “You sure you don’t want anything cleaned?” she asks with a smile. “It’s really no trouble.”

“I’ve only got what I’m wearing,” Koltira laughs. “I don’t know that stripping down is appropriate.”

“You make a fair argument,” she chuckles. The inside of the watery orb becomes cloudy with bubbles. “We’ll have to see into getting you some new threads, then.”

Once deemed clean enough, the clothes are freed from their wet prison and instead encased in one of flames, drying each article instantly. They fold themselves into a neat stack and Anarchaia directs them back into her bag. She gives it a light pat. “See? Easy.”

Nodding, Koltira stands. “I suppose you were right. Us non magic-users don’t know how rough we have it, do we?”

Anarchaia sets the bag on the ground and gives a shrug. “It has its limitations.” She unfastens the buttons holding her gloves to her collar and slides them off, exposing her bone fingers and the stitches holding her left arm together. “If I ever use too much of my mana I become incapacitated and useless.”

Koltira stares at the mage’s arms and fingers in astonishment, a voice at the back of his head telling him he’s being rude, but yet he’s unable to take his eyes away.

Anarchaia takes a long moment to realize what the uncomfortable silence is for. She places a hand over her arm and gives an awkward laugh. “O-Oh, that’s right. I...didn’t show you those. Sssssssorry...” She picks the glove back up.

Koltira’s eyes widen in embarrassment. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I can turn around or go back to camp and come back once you’re finished...?”

Anarchaia gives an embarrassed chuckle. “I was actually just going to sit and enjoy the peace and view.” She slides the other glove off. “I don’t bathe unless I’m sure no one will see me...or when I’m sure Grim’s asleep. I thought I’d get you to part with your clothes...for cleaning, obviously. But if you’d like to go back you’re more than welcome to.”

Koltira sighs. “Well if you really insist...I did bring this.” He holds up a little leather bag containing soaps and oils for his hair and skin, to help keep his skin from becoming necrotic. “If you promise not to look at me, then you may wash my clothes.”

Anarchaia laughs and pulls of her mask. She closes her eyes and points to them. “You have my word.”

Koltira strips, tossing his clothing where the mage can see it, then wades waste deep into the lake. “It’s safe for you to open your eyes,” he calls over his shoulder, his back to her.

Anarchaia gives his articles the same treatment as the others, dutifully averting her gaze. “Is the water nice?” she jokes.

He chuckles and pulls up a cupped hand, attempting to splash across the distance. “Nice and warm.”

Anarchaia smiles at the feeble attempt to get her wet and tilts her head. “Want it warmer?” she inquires. The orb above the lake drips bubbles onto the surface.

Koltira chuckles as he begins washing his long hair. “I wouldn’t really notice. You probably just want to light me on fire, anyway. Or is your ire reserved for Grimory?”

Anarchaia’s grin widens and she narrows her eyes. “It was actually more of a sign of good faith, but if you’d really like me to set you on fire...” She sets the dried, folded clothes with the others. “It can be arranged.”

Koltira leans back to rinse his hair, glancing up far enough to see her upside-down on the river bank. He chuckles an stands. “I’d really prefer you didn’t. So, why do you wait until he’s asleep? Why don’t you take it in good faith that he’s not going to come poking around?”

Anarchaia sobers. “I’m not gonna take that risk.” She sits in the grass, knees to her chest. “You’re much more honorable than he.”

“Honorable in what way?” Koltira asks, combing scented oil through his hair. “Surely he wouldn’t judge you as harshly as you believe. Is he not your friend?”

“Well I don’t know if I’d trust him to keep his word, first of all,” Anarchaia muses, tapping a skeletal finger to her chin. “And...yes, we’re friends. But...” She frowns. “He’s incredibly shallow. Like everyone else.”

Koltira purses his lips at Anarchaia’s confession. “It is a tough call to make, to trust someone cares enough about you to accept what you are, or to live hiding yourself from them for fear of the wrong reaction.” He ducks under the water once more, then hears a shrill shriek. He bursts through the surface, eyes searching the bank and locking on Anarchaia. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Anarchaia hums an agreement but remains somber. She stiffens at the sound of a scream and turns back to the woods, then to Koltira. “That wasn’t me,” she mumbles, getting to her feet.

Koltira rushes onto the bank, grabbing his trousers and pulling them on as he runs. He gets to the camp, pants still undone but his modesty intact, to see Alisbeth on the ground and the demon hunter standing over her. “What did I tell you about touching her?” he shouts.

Grimory glances at Koltira and scowls, gesturing to the new scar on Alisbeth’s leg. “She hurt herself.” He straightens and stands. “I fixed it. Keep your panties on.” He eyes the man’s unfastened pants and swallows his suspicions. “Or what’s left of them, anyway.”

Koltira scowls at Grimory, then down at Alisbeth’s leg. “Is that true?” She nods. “What happened?”

Alisbeth gets to her feet and takes a deep breath to begin. “Okay so, I was on guard duty like you said and he came back and said he was going to steal everything and asked where you were and I couldn’t remember and he said to hurt myself, so I did—” she picks up her axe and begins swinging it around the same way she’d hurt it before, “—and I took my axe to show him what hurting yourself really looks like—” Koltira stops the axe mid-swing and pries it from her fingers, “—and then it got stuck so he had to help—he’s really good at pulling out!—and I was going to cauterize it but my axe was taking too long to heat up, so he flamed me.” She pauses, her eyes rolling up as she thinks what she may have forgotten. “And then I screamed.” She smiles and sighs to finish her story.

Grimory spins to look at her. “No, I said _don’t_ hurt yourself!” he barks.

She points at him, jabbing her finger in the air to emphasize that he’s right. “Now I have a hole in my pants.”

“And you’re covered in blood spatter.” His brow lowers in annoyance, but he closes his eyes to regain some composure. He grits his teeth and looks to Grimory. “Thank you.” Then he turns and jerks Alisbeth out of the camp by her hand.

“Hi!” She smiles and waves at Anarchaia as she’s dragged away.

“You’re welcome,” Grimory grunts after he’s left alone.

“H-Hi...” Anarchaia breathes through her mask that she’d haphazardly put back on. She gives a sigh of relief and sets the bag of clothes beside the tent. “Are you okay?” she asks Grimory, having only caught the tail end of the story.

“I’m fine,” he responds, pushing stones in a circle around the fire with the toe of his boot.

“What happened?” Anarchaia adjusts the seam of her glove and tucks her hair into her mask.

“You have fun with your death knight friend?” Grimory says, not looking up from his work.

The mage pauses, then squares her shoulders when she realizes what he’s implying. “Your hypocrisy is astounding. It really is.”

“So you do have something going on with him.” He gives Anarchaia a sideways glance, his face cold.

“Are you listening to yourself? Even if I _was_ doing something with Koltira—which I wasn’t—it doesn’t have anything to do with you. We _aren’t_ together. And he’s married!” She throws her hands up.

“To a mad woman,” he scoffs, taking up a place by the fire.

Anarchaia presses her thumbs to her temples and growls. “That means nothing. And don’t talk about her that way. Alisbeth has enough awareness in her to have feelings. It’s rude.” She folds her arms. “This has got to stop. You’re being ridiculous. If we can’t get along, I’m just going to...to...”

“Go back home to that teacher of yours? I’m surprised you haven’t already, to be honest. You love him so fucking much.”

Anarchaia grits her teeth, fists shaking at her sides. “He has nothing to do with this.”

The two glower at one another for a long while, the green fire leaving shadows across their faces and the surrounding trees. 

~ * ~ 

Koltira drags Alisbeth along behind him. “Kolty, you-you’re hurting me.” She uses her other hand to pry the one free from his grasp. “Kolt—”

“Get yourself cleaned up,” he growls, pointing at the lake. Alisbeth strips down and obeys.

Alisbeth turns to look at Koltira over her shoulder, where he sits on the bank, staring at the ground as though it had wronged him. “Do you hate me?” She asks. He says nothing, so she continues washing herself in silence. Then she feels his hands slowly working the blood out of the tips of her hair and on her temple.

“No,” he says, “I’m just...figuring things out.”

With no other option after her bath, Alisbeth puts on her now dirty clothes and waits for Koltira. She takes his hand and he lets her lead him back to camp.

Anarchaia perks at the sound of rustling leaves and turns away to make her way back to the lake. She says nothing as she pushes past the returning couple, rage churning within her stomach.

Alisbeth perks and smiles at Anarchaia. “H—” Her smile falls flat and she drops her hand as the mage storms past. “She’s not mad at me, is she?” she asks Grimory.

Koltira busies himself putting away her axe and taking a blanket from the saddle of Bloodmist.

Grimory looks up at Alisbeth as she addresses him and does his best to not give away his emotions. “No, Ali. She’s not mad at you.” He gazes into the fire, reflecting on the words they’d exchanged. “Don’t worry about her.”

“But...” Alisbeth’s eyes round, “she’s my friend and she’s upset. I need to make it right.” Without warning she runs back toward the lake to find the mage.

Distracted, Koltira is unable to stop her. After his failed attempt he stares at the ground, begging for patience, then looks sideways at Grimory. 

~ * ~ 

Anarchaia stops at the lakeside, fuming. She makes to grab her mask and pull it off, but quickly pulls it back on at the sound of someone coming out of the woods. “Oh. Ali.” She frowns. “Sorry I ignored you. I just...” A heavy sigh escapes her.

Alisbeth runs right up to Anarchaia and slams into her, pulling her into a frantic hug. “I’m sorry you’re upset, Abathur. I really am. Did I do it? Was it Gerald? Want me to break his legs for you? What can I do? Anything. You name it.”

Anarchaia stumbles with the impact but returns the embrace when she regains her footing. She chuckles sadly. “No, I’m okay. It’s not you.” She pats Alisbeth’s back. “It’s not a big deal.”

Alisbeth frowns. “But it is a big deal if you’re not smiling.”

“But you can’t tell if I’m smiling,” Anarchaia laughs. Her smile fades, however, when the thought of how Alisbeth would act if she knew her true identity crosses her mind.

“Are you smiling?” Alisbeth asks, pressing a cheek to Anarchaia’s cheek. “It doesn’t feel like you are. Hey! Do you want to talk about it? Like...personal stuff?” She pulls back to smile encouragingly at the mage’s mask.

Anarchaia returns the grin reluctantly. “Actually, I was kind of hoping to just take a hot bath. We can talk after, though, if you’d like.”

Alisbeth’s smile falls. “Oh.” She turns and heads back up the path. “Oh. Okay.”

Anarchaia cringes and reaches a hand out to stop Alisbeth, but ultimately decides against it. She sighs and pulls off her mask. “I’m so bad at making friends. It’s getting kind of funny in a surreal sort of way.” She glances at her reflection then scrunches her face. “Who the hell am I talking to?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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"So, what did you say to Ana to piss her off like that?"

Grimory looks up at Koltira from his place on the ground without turning his head. "What do you care?" he growls, leaning back against the tree behind him.

Koltira drops onto the wool blanket and leans on an elbow. "Ana's a nice girl who's been through a lot. That's why I care. You can hate me and my wife all you want, we were all strangers before and we could be strangers again tomorrow. But Ana...she's your friend."

Grimory narrows his eyes, his anger igniting anew. "You two have gotten pretty close in the short time we've known each other. Sure, she and I are friends but you apparently already know more about her than she's told me in six months." His scowl deepens. "And since we've met you two she's been cold and rude toward me. I wonder why."

Koltira remains calm. _Be the bigger elf._ "Yes, she and I have talked quite a bit, as we were doing when you were busy fucking and mangling my wife. It could have something to do with that. But I'm no expert." He tosses a twig into the fire and meets Grimory's gaze with all the calm in the world.

Grimory holds up a finger. "Okay first of all, I didn't know she was your wife and at no point until afterward did anyone tell me." He holds up another. "Secondly, she asked for the knife play and we didn't do anything that wasn't agreed upon first. He pauses and lowers his hand back into his lap. "And lastly, Ana doesn't feel that way about me so that wouldn't be the reason."

Koltira shrugs. "Yes, well, if you'd taken the time to get to know her... Tell me, knowing what you know now, having spent this time around Alisbeth, would you go back and still give her the knife?" He waves a dismissive hand. "Don't bother answering. If you had any common sense you'd understand why your friend has been treating you the way you claim she has. To be honest, I think you deserve every glob of water she drops on you, and then some."

Grimory says nothing and glares, then turns his attention to the flames. A silence passes and he finally sighs and runs a hand over his hair. "I'm sorry," he blurts, desperate to change the subject. "For...well, you know. I feel shitty about it."

Koltira raises his eyebrows. "You _should_ feel shitty! If Ana and I hadn't come in when we did one—or both—of you would have bled to death! It was reckless, giving her a knife. And for either of you to engage in that sort of blood play without potions or bandages...? It was downright stupid. She has rules she _has_ to follow. No weapons in the room, the guy _stays_ tied up because she doesn't like when they touch her. I wouldn't have left you two alone if I'd known you were both so reckless."

Grimory narrows his eyes once more at the man, a mix of disbelief and pity cemented on his face. "You... I..."

Alisbeth stomps into the camp, her hands balled into tight fists. She takes a moment to glare at Koltira. "I wanted him to touch me." Then she stomps over to Grimory and pulls back her leg to kick him in the stomach.

 The demon hunter’s attention turns to Alisbeth. He opens his mouth to say something, but instead grunts in pain. "What the hell?!" he yells, a hand over his stomach.

"She's my friend!" Alisbeth shouts in his face. "You're supposed to be my friend. You said we are friends!" She folds her arms over her chest. "Give me a good reason to let you keep your horns attached to your head."

Koltira raises his eyebrows, trying not to laugh.

Confusion apparent in his features, Grimory leans away from her. "Beeeeeecause we're friends?"

She grabs the nearest curled horn and yanks. "Ali." Koltira smiles calmly. "He apologized."

"But... What did he _do_?"

Grimory winces in genuine pain. " _I didn't do anything!_ " he hisses. "We had an argument, that's all! She'll get over it!"

Koltira holds up a hand. "Ali, come sit. I've got your blanket here and everything."

She shrugs and releases Grimory's horn. "Okay." Alisbeth plops down beside Koltira and reaches her hand out to the fire.

He sighs in relief and rubs at his head, closing his eyes. "Look, it's clearly in everyone's best interest that we all get along, right?" His eyes flick between the two. "So what say we start from the beginning?"

"Get your hand out of the fire."

Alisbeth pulls back her hand and smiles. "Start from the beginning? But it's a whole day's walk behind us!"

Grimory lifts his eyebrows before shaking his head, giving up completely. "Never mind, I guess."

Alisbeth's smile disappears and she sits up straight, her eyes trained on Grimory. "My name is Alisbeth Redblade, daughter of Malath and Diori Redblade. My father was captain of the Stormwind guard and he served under many kings, Llane being the last. I am a paladin of Light's Hope and guardian of the Light. It is a pleasure to meet you." A beat passes before he gives a hearty laugh. "It's a pleasure to meet you, too, Alisbeth Redblade. My name's Grimory Silversong, son of A'dallah and Runi, loyal servant of Lord Illidan Stormrage." He turns his attention to Koltira and puts on an airy kindness. "And how about you, good sir?"

Alisbeth smiles pleasantly, her demeanor reserved. "Well met, Grimory Silversong." She bends the littlest bit at the waist, casting her gaze to the ground as a sign of respect.

Koltira stares at her, his eyes lit with pure joy, he regards Grimory without taking his gaze from her. "Farstrider Koltira Deathweaver. Guardian of Quel'Thalas."

"Hm. You must know your way around a bow, then," he muses, lifting his hands to fasten them behind his head. "And you a hammer."

"Sword," Alisbeth corrects. "My father's sword."

Koltira shrugs. "Bow, sword, axe... Give me a weapon and I'll use it."

"Oh, I don't doubt it." Grimory gazes up at the stars. He inhales as if to continue but stops as Anarchaia steps out of the shrubbery. Color hinting in his cheeks, he glances away as regret from earlier fills him.

Anarchaia looks between the three, somewhat baffled that they're all getting along. She takes up an empty spot at the fire. "What're we talking about?" She crosses her legs and rests her hands over her ankle.

Alisbeth casts her stoic gaze to Anarchaia. "Grimory said we should start from the beginning. We were just introducing ourselves." Koltira reaches up to stroke her hair. "Mind your hands, farstrider."

Anarchaia waits for a moment. "Oh!" she says, realizing. "Um... My name is Anarchaia Starling." She clears her throat. "Apprentice to the Archmage Khadgar, resident of the mage city of Dalaran." She taps her fingers. "Accomplisher of nothing. Heh."

Alisbeth furrows her brow. "Archmage who? I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with those of Dalaran. I only passed through once on my way to Lordaeron. What is it like living in Hillsbrad? Is it always so beautiful?"

"No one important," Anarchaia jokes with a quiet chuckle.

"It's very quiet," Grimory responds with a smile. "But very boring. Cold winters. Hot summers."

"Alisbeth," Koltira sets his hand on her arm. She clears her throat and he moves his hand. "Apologies. Captain Redblade, where are we right now?"

She smiles at him like he's lost his mind. "The southern forest of Quel'Thalas, of course."

He casts his sad gaze to the other two, then down at his hands. "When did you arrive in Silvermoon?"

"It has barely been a fortnight." She observes him carefully. "Are you ill Farstrider? You seem...pale."

He slides away from her. "I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, Captain."

Grimory and Anarchaia exchange apprehensive glances despite their current grudges. "Are _you_ feeling all right, Al—er—Captain?" Anarchaia asks with a heavy hint of caution. "Perhaps you should lie down."

Koltira shakes his head at the two. "Do either of you have a mirror?"

A hand mirror appears in Anarchaia's upturned palm and she offers it. "Please don't break it."

"Captain, will you look into this?" Koltira holds up the mirror.

She smiles and takes it. Her face falls as she looks at herself. "Oh," she gasps. "I remember now..." Tears line her eyes as she hands the mirror back to Anarchaia with shaking fingers. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I don't know..." She stands and steps over Koltira. "Excuse me."

Anarchaia accepts the mirror back and sends it away, concern crossing her face. She stands. "Are you going to be okay, Ali?"

Alisbeth waves a hand behind her and continues walking. When she's out of earshot Koltira clears his throat. "Sorry about that. It happens every so often. It's nice having her back, even for a short while. She'll be fine, Ana."

Anarchaia sinks back into her place with a quiet groan of apprehension. "If you say so." She pulls her knees to her chest. "You must be exhausted dealing with her all the time..." she says under her breath. "Granted, she's worth the effort, I assume. But..."

Koltira smiles at Anarchaia. "I accept people for who they are, not who I'd like them to be." He groans, stretches, and lays back against the hard earth. "But yes, it can get exhausting. Keeps you on your toes. So, Lady Starling and Sir Silversong. Finally some complete names. What shall we discuss now? Or is it the boy's bedtime?" He gives the demon hunter a rude smile.

Grimory opens his eyes only halfway to give Koltira an unenthused glare. "I'd rather be tired than dead."

Anarchaia flinches at the slight sent unintended toward her, but recovers. "I..." she begins, then closes her mouth with a shrug. "I'm not very good with conversation. Sorry. Grim and I mostly spend our nights without it. Heh."

Koltira shrugs and stares up at the stars. "Fair enough." He chooses to ignore Grimory altogether.

The Illidari motions for Anarchaia to toss him her pack and she does so. He rummages through it until he finds what he's looking for: a ration of dried meat. He shoves the end of it in his mouth as he hands the bag back. "You two have any place you call home or is that floating pyramid where you live?"

Anarchaia glances once in the direction Alisbeth had gone and fidgets.

Koltira watches the demon hunter chew on the meat, and for a moment he misses the taste of a hot, fire-cooked steak. "We live in Acherus, yes. Though it would be a better idea to get her a nice cabin away from...people. What about you? You live on that space ship, or whatever it is they're calling it?" He glances at Anarchaia. "She's fine. But if you absolutely must check on her..."

Grimory gives a curt nod. "The Fel Hammer is our center of command. We train there until they feel we're ready to be sent out." He swallows his bite. "But that wasn't until after the whole ten-years-in-a-crystal bullshit. Before that we just lived in Mardum."

Anarchaia shakes her head after a moment's thought. "She looked like she needs a bit of space. Plus, I'm no good at consolation."

Koltira smirks. "Like Acherus. We use it to train out new 'recruits.' Before that we trained at the Citadel." He shrugs at Anarchaia. "It's really up to you. Alone she's more prone to breaking breakable objects. With someone there she... still breaks things, but can be calmed. I see no difference so I just let her have it out."

"You aren't making the decision any easier," she grumbles, then finally stands and trots of after Alisbeth.

"Keep a safe distance," Koltira advises as she leaves.

Grimory watches her go and chews on the end of his ration thoughtfully. "So were you willing to join the Lich King's ranks? Or forced?"

 He turns to Grimory. "I woke in the morning with the sole intention of killing Thassarian. I failed. But he admired my skill and so had me resurrected to serve. I had no choice in my service, as I had no choice when I tried to kill Alisbeth. I watched from a prison in my own mind as my body did horrific deeds."

The corner of Grimory's mouth pulls into a sorry frown. "That's rough, buddy."

He shakes his head. "Your people, though...you were imprisoned simply for becoming something greater in order to save Azeroth."

He glances back up to Koltira in mild surprise and pulls the meat from his lips. "They don't trust us. Not then, not now. At any moment those whores could change their minds." His glare turns back to the fire. "We're doing more than they are at this point. How many Wardens do you see around?"

Koltira nods his agreement. “This isn't information to share, but, even the Lich King stirs against the Legion.”

Grimory furrows his brow at the odd news, then shakes it off, shoves the remainder of the meat in his mouth, and leans back again to rest against the tree. He sighs through his nose. "You're pretty dedicated to that girl to go through all this shit. You sure this _adventure_ is worth it?"

Koltira's eyes frost over with little blizzards of their own. "And what would you do? Abandon the woman you love just because her mind isn't always the most stable?"

The Illidari holds up a hand. "Calm down I wasn't implying anything. It was just a question. You spend a lot of time doing what she wants, I assume. You ever get the time to do what _you_ want?"

Koltira thinks for a long time. "I'm not even sure what I want."

"Hm," Grimory grunts. "Then I guess you've got all you need." He stretches his legs out and crosses one over the other.

"What about you?" Koltira asks. "You haven't once shown genuine interest in this endeavor since Ali and I showed up. Why are you here?"

"I do as I'm told by my superiors. That's all the interest I need."

Koltira smirks. "Ah, something we actually have in common besides knowing Alisbeth intimately."

Grimory returns the faint smile. "It's rough-going but it'll pay out in the end if you work hard enough. At least that's what I'm told."

He nods at Grimory. "Maybe it will. I'm told to shut up and do what they tell me." He shrugs. "Motivation is motivation, right?" He grins sardonically.

The demon hunter gives a single laugh. "What do they do to _motivate_ you in Acherus?"

Koltira lays back to look at the two moons in the night sky. "Well, first, it was lack of choice. Now? It varies from death knight to death knight." He groans at the subject, deciding to use the opportunity to urge answers from the demon hunter. "So, you and Anarchaia aren't...involved...are you?"

Grimory raises his eyebrows at the other, interested. "Why?" he asks, a strange mixture of worry and curiosity mixing in his stomach. He does his best to sound bored. "You want her or something?"

Koltira moves to the trunk of a tree, a better angle to gauge the reactions of the demon hunter in the firelight. He shrugs, feigning mild disinterest. "Oh, you know. She's smart and sweet and really, really pretty, so...maybe. I don't know. We'll see."

The muscles in Grimory's jaw flex as he grits his teeth behind his lips. He gazes over the fire at the death knight with a cool calm. "How do you know she's pretty?" The fire pops as though feeding off his inner irritation.

Koltira waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know, you can hear it in her voice, too, I'm sure. Her lips are nice and her nose comes to the perfect little point."

Grimory narrows his eyes, biting back a large amount of words. "Perhaps," he scoffs. "Your wife is much prettier, though. Nice body." He grins, his sharp teeth glinting in the green light of the fire.

Koltira smacks his lips and tries to hide his annoyance. "Well, with Ana's white hair I'm sure I'll get along just fine, no matter the body beneath those robes of hers. Nice figure in her trousers, anyway."

Grimory hums a note of disagreement and shrugs a single shoulder. "Ana is much too small. A stiff breeze could knock her over. Alisbeth, on the other hand, is sturdy, well built. Knows her way around a blade." He grins again. "And ropes."

Koltira inches a little more upright, his brow low. "Oh, trust me, I know well what Alisbeth can do with some ropes. And whips. But sometimes you just need to fuck a sweet girl. Or is it just me?" He gives Grimory a devilish smirk, though he cringes inwardly at his own crude phrasing.

His irritation boils over and Grimory can no longer contain his scowl. "Must just be you," he growls darkly, flecks bursting from his eyes and floating upward toward the canopy. "Though Ana says you two haven't done anything, which makes my tally count higher...which makes my opinion more educated."

Koltira folds his arms over his chest. "Oh, so, Ana is a lousy lay? Maybe it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you. A girl like her needs a more gentle touch. Something to cool her down instead of heating her up."

"I didn't say that," Grimory grunts, mirroring the man by folding his own arms. "She was actually one of the better ones. Very hot. She wouldn't want your icy fingers all over her anyway." He spits off to the side. "After all, you have to fight fire with fire. Ice will just melt."

"Oh," Koltira places his arms behind his head. "So, then, Alisbeth is the one not worth your time?"

Grimory tilts his head, an unimpressed glare washing over his face. "You sure are wishy-washy. I wonder what your wife would say if she knew the things you've been saying about another woman."

"Judging by the tips of your ears last night, you already know the sort of things I've heard her say about other men. I'm sure if I spoke of another woman she would join me." He smiles. "You know, that gives me an idea. Two beautiful white-haired girls and one very large bed. That would be some real fun." Koltira's grin is evil as he stares through the fire at the demon hunter.

Grimory inspects his fingernails, still glaring. "You're pretty full of yourself if you'd assume Ana would just agree to lie with you." He clicks the nails of his thumb and middle finger against each other. "It's also pretty insulting towards her character. Your wife may fuck anyone that flexes their muscles at her, but Ana is more reserved. I'm confident you aren't a threat." He clears his throat. "Not that it matters. She's not my girlfriend."

"You're right. It was a slip of the tongue. Ana is the sort of girl you...get to know personally. Spend some one-on-one time with her. I can't imagine why she fucked you, though, if she doesn't go for empty-headed bags of hot air."

The Illidari bristles at the insult and straightens his spine. "If she's willing to fuck me but not you that must make you lower than an empty-headed bag of hot air. Perhaps a coin purse full of a dead man's cold, weak final breath." He points a finger at him. "If your only reason for wooing her is to get at me I suggest you reconsider." His voice lowers to a hiss. "If I ever find out you hurt her..."

"You'll what, big brother? Show me your fingernails?" Koltira chuckles. "Those might do it for Ali, but not me. And, really, you flatter yourself too much. Wooing a woman simply to anger her silly little traveling buddy? Please. She already made it clear to me she wanted nothing to do with you. It must be a shame to be nothing more than a woman's hungover regret in the morning."

Grimory squares his shoulders, his eyes bursting into small balls of fel fire. The cords in his neck protrude and he struggles to control his breathing. "I'd think regret is out of the question if it's happened three times." The muscle above the corner of his mouth twitches as he does his best to restrain himself from asking the next question. He fails. "What did she say?"

Koltira smirks. "Oh, you know, this and that." He raises a devious eyebrow. "Three times, huh? Does she know or did you just help yourself?"

"She started it. And when she didn't she didn't resist," he sneers. "Not sure about your standards but I'd never force myself on a woman."

Koltira remains calm, his cool eyes fixed on the demon hunter in their flurry. "Well, whatever you did to her, she doesn't want it again. I believe her words were 'a big, stupid, drunk mistake that will never, ever happen again.' Yeah, she sure sounds pleased with your work, _buddy_."

His eyes crackle and Grimory chews on the inside of his cheek. He drums his fingers against his bicep. "I don't believe you," he finally says, looking away. "Ana doesn't speak ill of anyone. If you knew her better you'd know that."

"She didn't speak ill of _you_ , she just said it wasn't one of her best decisions. You know, for not caring, you sure seem to...care."

"Of course I care," Grimory blurts. "She's my friend. I don't care about her teacher - he seems like a nice enough guy—but I'll be damned if I let her slip into the hands of someone like _you_."

Koltira straightens. "Someone like me? What, you're afraid I might do nice things for her? Compliment her on how beautiful her eyes look in the moonlight? You're not looking out for her. You're reserving her like a seat at the banquet that you have no interest in actually using, you just want to slide in and help yourself to the sweetest dessert which no one else can get to from any other seat. You're a selfish bastard trying to dig your claws into a poor girl who's had far too much pain in her past for some asshole like you to come stirring it up!" By the end Koltira is shouting and his cheeks are a darker shade of angry blue, his eyes a blizzard glaring at the demon hunter.

Grimory leaps to his feet and the fire within the pit suddenly sputters out, leaving the two in the light of nothing but both men's burning eyes. Breathing heavily through his nose in a feeble attempt to retain his anger, he again points at Koltira and growls his words slowly. "You know nothing about how I feel for her or what the two of us have been through. I don't care about reserving her for myself; she doesn't feel the same way that I do—I'm not so dense that I can't see that. So if you do happen to, for some reason—despite being a taken man—gain her trust, her _love_..." He swallows at the thought and clenches his fangs together. "Then whatever. You'd just better not break her heart." The light in the area dims as he narrows his eyes. "Or I'll fucking come for you."

Koltira jumps to his feet as well. "And _now_ you show your cards," he says with a greedy smile. "Come on, windbag, keep talking. Maybe then you'll actually tell the truth for once instead of using Ali to make Ana jealous. _Ali_ likes you and you're _using_ her. In the end you're going to hurt both of them. Ana will walk away with a broken heart, but Ali? She'll be the one coming for you."

"I'm not _using_ anyone," Grimory responds. "Neither Ana or myself have made any sort of commitment to one another. And as I've said multiple times, if I'd known you two were married—which _you lied about—_ I wouldn't have done anything with Alisbeth." He scoffs. "If anyone's going to end up hurting someone, it's you."

Koltira growls. "I keep our relationship secret because if I don't then there are those who will hurt her or kill her to get to me. And I know you don't understand this sort of thing, but I love my wife and will do anything— _anything—_ to keep her safe and happy." He flexes his hands and his sides, balling them in to fists. "And I've already let you off that hook. But maybe I shouldn't have." In a flash, he reaches to Bloodmist and withdraws Byfrost. "You dishonor them both by breathing their names!" He charges at Grimory.

Grimory nimbly dodges, claws morphed and at the ready. "Even talk about fucking other women? How noble." He aims a slash at Koltira's back as he turns to counter.

Koltira arcs away, air brushes the linen of his shirt as Grimory's hand passes by. He spins and raises Byfrost over his head, the green of the blade leaving streaks of light in its wake.

~ * ~

Anarchaia stops among the brush and glances around, straining to listen. "Ali?" she calls with a palm cupping her lips.

Alisbeth hears Anarchaia’s call. Instead of responding, she gets up from her spot and runs away.

Anarchaia's head cocks towards Alisbeth's position, hearing the foliage crunch. "Ali! Wait!" She bounces on her heels for a second of hesitation before bounding after her.

"Don't look at me!" Alisbeth yells.

"Why?" is the only thing the mage is able to call.

"I'm hideous!" Alisbeth shrieks. She drops to her knees and covers her face.

Anarchaia skids to a stop beside Alisbeth and falls to the dirt beside her. "No! You're not!" She wraps her arms about the girl's shoulder without a moment's thought. "You're very beautiful!"

Alisbeth whimpers and leans her head on Anarchaia's shoulder. "No. But thank you for lying. It helps a little."

"I'm not lying!" The mage pulls Alisbeth's head into a hug. "You're very far from ugly." She brushes her ivory hair with her own thin fingers. "And anyone who tells you different is the liar."

Alisbeth sniffs. "That feels good. You smell good."

Anarchaia blinks, then chuckles, continuing to brush. "You do, too," she lies, not having had the ability to smell much in the last ten years or so.

"Koltira put oils in my hair," Alisbeth responds.

Anarchaia grins. "He did a good job." She sighs and glances out at the trees to nowhere in particular. A cold wind rustles through the leaves and the moonlight filters down. "I'm so sorry for whatever's happened to you."

Alisbeth sighs against Anarchaia, turning her head to look at the peaceful scenery. "They took...everything from me... They didn't mean to kill me, but when they did..." She shudders at the memory.

The thought of her own death is shoehorned into her mind and Anarchaia frowns. She tightens her hug. "They can't hurt you anymore. And they didn't take everything. You still have Koltira...and now me."

Alisbeth grins manically and sits up to stare at Anarchaia. "We're friends? I like having friends!"

Her own smile growing into one of slight worry, Anarchaia nods. "Of course we are. Unless...you don't want to be." She pouts comically and turns away to pretend she's been hurt.

Alisbeth grabs Anarchaia in a tight hug. "But I _do_!"

She stifles her laughter and gives a faux sob. "Nooooo. You hate me!" Her hands cover her face and she struggles weakly to pull away.

Alisbeth grips Anarchaia tighter. "I don't hate anyone. Except the warlock. And the priest." She goes quiet for a minute, then says low, "If I ever see them again I'm killing them. I don't care where I am or if they take my own head for it. I will kill them."

Anarchaia's smile fades. She swallows as the other girl grows grave. "I don't know what they did to you, but..." She pauses and thinks for a moment before she continues. "If you do eventually find them, and you need any help..."

Alisbeth's eyes light with excitement. “Can you light them on fire while I chop them to little bits? I'm going to start at the toes and work my way up a little bit at a time. Make them feel every second for hours, like they did to me."

The flash of a blade cuts through Anarchaia's mind and she shakes her head. Her limbs ache. "Yes. I can do that for you."

Alisbeth leans her head on Anarchaia's shoulder again and stares off into empty space. "You're a good friend."

Anarchaia pats Alisbeth's back gently once again and says nothing. She instead takes in the sounds of the trees and crickets and hugs the death knight tighter to her.

 After what the mage deems to be a good amount of time passes, she leads Alisbeth back toward the camp, her own fingers wrapped gingerly around the other girl's third and pinky fingers. "Let's go sit around the fire, okay? We all just need to relax for a while. Forget things. Listen to the forest," she coos, pushing shrubs out of her path.

Alisbeth smiles. "I forget things sometimes. Koltira helps me remember them. I think he loves me, and I love him. Can I tell you a secret?"

 Anarchaia returns the grin and nods. "I never release secrets I'm told." She motions to her mouth as though closing it like a zipper.

Alisbeth smiles, though her chin quivers. "Every time I'm with someone else all I see is him, and I wish it was him. I know he hates me for it. It's only a matter of time before he leaves." Her smile widens. "This is probably the last adventure we’ll go on together. But...I'll have you, right?"

 Anarchaia stops and turns, her eyes wide and sad beneath her mask. "He doesn't hate you, Ali." She gives the girl's hand a squeeze. "And I don't think he'll ever leave you." Her face softens. "And if in some impossible event he does, yes. I'll be here."

Alisbeth grips the other girl's hand and skips a little. "I like having friends."

Anarchaia smiles and skips alongside her, giggling carelessly. She glances ahead once they're a few yards from camp. "Huh. I guess they put the fire out," she muses aloud, slowing her skip to a cautious walk.

Alisbeth stops, her ears perking when she hears her name. "They're talking about us," she hisses.

Anarchaia stops as well upon hearing her own name. She hesitates and glances back the way they'd come. "We...shouldn't eavesdrop."

Alisbeth smiles in excitement. "But, I want to know what they're saying!"

Anarchaia perks at the sound of yelling and pushes past Alisbeth. "They're fighting!"

Alisbeth follows Anarchaia, leaning to look around her. A frown pulls at her lips. "Koltira has the redblade!"

"We have to stop them!" the mage cries, running forward at a sprint. " _Stop!!_ " She lunges from the brush.

Grimory growls as the blade leaves a shallow cut down his front. Deep crimson blood dribbles onto the hem of his pants. He ignores Anarchaia's cries as she enters the clearing and slashes again at Koltira, not aiming for anywhere in particular—just hoping to make contact.

Koltira cries out as Grimory's claws rip gashes down his left shoulder. He grips Byfrost in his right fist and swings out wildly, aiming to take Grimory's head.

More blood spatters across the dark dirt as Grimory's cheek is opened. He stumbles back, a hand over his face. Crimson leaks out from between his fingers, dribbling down his chin and into the blond hair of his goatee. He growls out again and lurches forward to ready another attack, bloodied hand pulled back with claws wide. Before he can complete his move, however, his body becomes encased in violet light. He’s pulled violently from his feet and slammed into a nearby tree. He struggles against invisible restraints.

" _I said stop!_ " Anarchaia cries, a hand out to hold Grimory in place. " _What in Gods' names is going on, here?!_ "

Blinded by his rage and encouraged by the wounds inflicted on Grimory, Koltira throws Byfrost at the pinned Illidari. Alisbeth slides along the dirt under her feet, coming to a stop in front of Grimory. The tip of the blade hits her in the sternum and knocks her backward into the demon hunter. She crumples to the ground at the base of the tree.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

Anarchaia’s eyes widen. “Ali!” Still holding Grimory firmly against the tree, she runs to the death knight and drops to her knees by her side. “Ali! Are you all right?!”

Grimory struggles once more. “Ana, put me down.”

Alisbeth doesn’t move for a minute, then coughs. “That’ll take the air out of you.”

Koltira flinches and holds his wounds. “Ali...I...”

Anarchaia’s head jerks in Koltira’s direction when he speaks. She releases Grimory—who falls to his hands and knees beside Alisbeth—before she stands. “What has gotten into you?” she hisses at him.

Koltira flinches and stares down at Anarchaia. “You’ll hate me more if I explain.” He leans to sigh down at Alisbeth. “Thank you for...stopping that. It was stupid of me to throw the sword.”

Alisbeth pushes her hands between her breasts. “I’m the only one allowed to throw the sword, got it?”

He nods solemnly.

After seeing Alisbeth is generally unharmed Anarchaia crawls over, ushering Grimory up on his haunches. “Are you all right?” She cringes at the sight of the gash in his face. “Does it hurt?” She brings a finger up to test the depth of the wound but he grabs her by the wrist.

“I’ll be fine.” He rubs the blood from his cheek and hisses when doing so pulls at the flesh of his cut.

“No.” The mage sighs and conjures the last of the potions she was given. “These didn’t even last a week,” she grumbles, popping one open.

Alisbeth jumps to her feet with a glare. She kicks Byfrost into her hand, the illumination from the blade casts light on the handle as it shimmers from blue to red. The green edges flare to fiery life. “You told me not to talk about things, Kolty. And you’re talking about them. And you’re fighting our friend. Over what?”  She slashes at him, the sword ripping through the air in a flaming arc.

“Alisbeth, calm down.” Koltira jumps backward out of her reach.

“No! I let you keep the redblade to bring honor to it. Not to _turn_ it on our _allies_...our _friends_!” She swipes at him again.

Anarchaia gives a growl of frustration and grabs Alisbeth by the ankle. “Ali, stop!” She shoves a potion into Grimory’s hand and pushes herself to her feet, rushing to stand between the two. “ _That’s enough!_ ” she shouts, her back to Koltira and eyes on Alisbeth. She holds out her hands, the second potion still tucked between her palm and a thumb. “Just calm down, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine. Everyone just needs to take a breath.” Her own heart pounding within her, she does her best to act collected despite inwardly screaming from the stress. “They’re men. They fight. It’s okay.”

“Koltira doesn’t fight like some petty fool!” Alisbeth shouts. “He doesn’t do this! Not with my father’s sword, Kolty!”

Koltira backs up again. “Ana, Ali, I’m sorry, I... We were just...venting. It got a little out of control. ’That’s all. Forgive me.”

Eyes still on Alisbeth, Anarchaia turns at the waist to hold out the second healing tincture. “It’s fine,” she says pointedly, her fingers shaking. “Just set the sword down, Ali. No one else needs to be hurt tonight.” She bites her lip. _Please. Don’t make me subdue you._

Grimory downs the disgusting concoction and grimaces as his wounds heal. He coughs into the back of a wrist.

Alisbeth growls. “Only because you asked and you are nice and smell good.” She reaches out to pat Anarchaia on the head, then throws the sword. The blade goes dark before embedding itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. She points a finger at Koltira. “I’m angry at you.”

He sinks to his knees with a sigh. “I noticed.”

Feeling safe enough to turn away from the death knight, Anarchaia does so and steps to Koltira before kneeling. “Are you going to accept my help this time?” she inquires, her lips pursed thin beneath her mask as she holds out the potion.

Koltira purses his lips, then nods. “Fine.”

Alisbeth drops to the dirt and pulls her rumpled blanket around herself as she watches the two.

Grimory groans and stands, rubbing at his cheek. He throws the empty vial into the dead fire pit with enough force to shatter it.

Anarchaia stands and runs her hands over her head as if smoothing her hair back. She inhales loudly and holds it. “I don’t know what this was about,” she begins, her voice barely audible, “but it’s not going to happen again.” She turns to Grimory, an exasperated and somewhat crazed smile on her face. “Okay?” she chirps.

Grimory flicks his scowl between her and Koltira. He looks away and nods before ducking into the tent.

Koltira nods. “I promise.” But he doesn’t look at Anarchaia—his gaze remains on Alisbeth’s back.

The mage releases the air she’d sucked in and turns back toward the lake. She rests a comforting hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder as she passes, leaning down to speak quietly into her ear. “It’ll be okay. Don’t be upset. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?” She straightens and disappears into the bushes, a cinder forming within her palm to light the path.

Koltira doesn’t move. “Ali—”

“Don’t.”

“Alisbeth, please.”

“Why were you fighting about us?” Alisbeth asks.

He hangs his head in shame and inches closer to whisper in her ear. “I was just trying to get a rise out of him. He said some of the most vile things—”

“Koltira,” she growls.

“What he said...it’s all true. And I just...lost it. I should never have—”

She sets a finger to his lips and looks at him, but through him. “Stop apologizing. I’m sick of hearing it.” She tucks her arm back into the blanket. “I’m waiting for Addie before I’ll talk to you.”

When at the lakeside, Anarchaia falls to her hands and knees. She inhales again, thrusts her head into the water, and screams her frustration, stress, and anger to the silt and fish. When the bubbles finally cease, she remains with her head submerged for a few minutes. Finally, she stands, brushes the dirt and grass from her knees, and, still dripping wet, makes her way back to camp.

Alisbeth keeps watch, her eyes to toward the lake. “When she gets back, you are both in deep hog shit. Both of you are gonna get it. Yep. And I know you can hear me, Gary. She’s coming back for you. She’s gonna light you on fire. Yep.”

“I’m not lighting anybody on fire,” Anarchaia sighs as she steps back into the clearing, her wet mask clinging to her face. “I’m not going to yell. I’m not going to reprimand. I’m just going to...to...” An orb of fire encircles her head, drying the cloth instantly. “To sit.” She does so beside the empty fire pit, which sparks back to life with a quiet roar. She looks up to Koltira, noticing the full vial still in his hand, and points at him. “ _And you drink that fucking potion,_ ” she hisses, more out of exasperation than anger.

Alisbeth points at him as well. “You heard her!”

Koltira obediently drinks, then gags, almost spiting the potion all over the girls. He forces it down with a grimace. “What the hell is this?”

“Healing potion.” Anarchaia brings her knees to her chest, her voice tired but recovering. “The demon hunter we met at the auditions gifted them to us. Charming fellow.” She sets her chin within the valley between her knees and closes her eyes.

“The one I wanted the chunk from? Oh! Nice. His skin was like a red crocolisk. I wanted to pet him, but Koltira wouldn’t let me.” Alisbeth scoots closer to Anarchaia.

Koltira scratches at his tongue. “It’s like swallowing fire embers and bad whiskey.”

The mage turns away from the two and conjures a metal flask. She takes a drink from it as covertly as possible before screwing the cap on and sending it back whence it came. “Yes, that one.” She looks up and jumps upon finding Alisbeth closer to her but does not move away. “Would you rather it taste bad or have your shoulder shredded to bits?”

Koltira begins to grumble about taking care of his own shoulder.

“Shut up, Deathweaver,” Alisbeth growls, then smiles at Anarchaia. “Well. Tonight sucked. And we’re not even near a tavern to make it better.” She shrugs. “Costs a lot for me and Kolty to drink anyway. Though I don’t think he deserves any.”

Anarchaia swallows and glances from side to side. “Well...” she mumbles, then stops. _No. I’m already in trouble for stealing the one bottle._ She cringes inwardly and taps her foot in thought. _I could really use a drink, though. And not just the secret ones..._ Her brow furrows and she clears her throat. “Yes or no?” she says, being cryptic as if doing so will relinquish her of any responsibility in the decision.

Alisbeth chews on her lower lip. “Yeeees?”

The mage holds out her hand and, in similar fashion as before, conjures two smaller bottles of wine, the necks between her thin fingers. “If anyone asks you didn’t see anything,” she mumbles, the corks popping free.

“But I saw you pull bottles from the air!” Alisbeth squeals. “That was so cool! Do it again! Get more! _Oh!_ Get whiskey.” She claps in excitement.

Anarchaia claps her free hand over Alisbeth’s mouth. “ _Shh._ No, this is it...for now. Theeeeey aren’t exactly mine.” Her voice trails off. She leans forward to glance at Koltira and wiggles the bottles. “Are you done being crabby enough to come have a sip?”

Alisbeth pushes her finger to the mage’s lips. “Koltira doesn’t get any.”

“Ali,” he growls.

“I misbehave, I get none. You misbehaved, you get none!” She leans to Anarchaia and grabs one of the bottles. “He gets none.”

“ _Water_ for the delinquent, then.” She conjures a copper cup and fills it with a clear liquid. It settles itself near Koltira’s boot and she smiles tiredly beneath her mask. “Sorry for what Grim did to you. He can get kind of hot-headed.” She pushes her mask back above her lips as though she hadn’t just done the same thing moments before and takes a drink. She leans her shoulder into Alisbeth’s, enjoying the warmth of the fire and within her stomach.

Koltira scowls at the cup, but takes a mouthful of the offered liquid anyway. He suppresses a cough, realizing she’d given him straight vodka. He clears his throat and takes a much smaller sip. “ _You_ don’t need to apologize for him. And I...gave my fair share. It was ungainly of me.”

Alisbeth leans her forehead to Anarchaia’s cheek and takes several gluttonous swigs of the wine. “You were an absolute twat, Kolty. It was childish and immature. You should be ashamed.”

Anarchaia frowns at Koltira. “Someone’s got to. And it probably won’t be him.” The mage pats Alisbeth curtly on the knee and inhales. “I’m sure it wasn’t all his fault, Alisbeth.” She sighs, the bottle at her lips. “In fact I’m _sure_ it wasn’t all his fault.”

“I don’t need an apology, Ana. But thank you all the same,” Koltira says.

Alisbeth swigs the wine too fast, then smiles. She lowers herself to lay her head on Anarchaia’s thigh. She flattens to her back and stares up at the mage. “Oh, hey, I found your boobs.”

Anarchaia flushes and glances down at Alisbeth, the bottle still in her mouth. She arches her back some so that the fabric of her shirt folds and hides her breasts. She swallows and sets the bottle by her side. “I told you I wasn’t a boy,” she chuckles.

The bottle leaves Alisbeth’s lips with a hollow _phoong_. She smiles, then reaches up to poke one of the now hidden breasts. “Yeah, but...” She giggles and rolls to face the fire. “Now I _know_... Mostly. I’d know better if you showed me, though.” She giggles again.

“Ali...” Koltira warns.

Her flush deepening, Anarchaia flinches and covers herself with her arms. Another nervous chuckle escapes her. “I wouldn’t count on that. Heh.” She reaches again for the bottle, her desire for more growing with the levels of discomfort. “We’ve only known each other for a short time, after all.”

The tips of Alisbeth’s ears warm as she chugs more down. “This wine hits _hard_!” She turns her head to smile at the mage. “And that’s okay. I’ve known people for less time before—”

“Ali, not now,” Koltira sighs in exasperation. “Please. Just...not now.”

Anarchaia gives her characteristic wide, crooked smile and pokes Alisbeth on the tip of her nose. “Well, unlike my friend in the tent, I have some standards to whom I let see me naked.” She takes a long drink and again sets the bottle aside. “Not that there’s anything wrong with doing the opposite.” She hiccups into the tendons in the back of her hand, waving the other towards Koltira dismissively. “It’s quite all right. She’s not hurting anyone.”

Koltira growls in his throat. “Not. Now.” His jaw worries under his skin. “Please.”

Alisbeth stays quiet for a minute, then sighs. “He said we were friends. Are we friends?”

The mage blinks down at the girl in her lap. “Hm? Who said who were friends?”

“Galvin said we were friends when I was on his head,” Ali says, swirling her finger in the dirt.

Anarchaia lifts her eyebrows. “Did he? That was awful nice of him.” She gives a sideways glance to the tent behind her. “And uncharacteristic.”

Alisbeth finishes her wine and smacks her lips in satisfaction. “He’s nice. I like him. Sometimes. Why is there a star on his ass?”

Anarchaia’s head slides back on her shoulders and she furrows her brow in surprise. “I...didn’t know there was.”

Koltira stands abruptly, finishes his drink, and holds the cup out for Anarchaia to take. “Thank you, Ana. You’re a good friend. I...need some fresh air.”

Her head cocks up to look at Koltira. She gingerly takes the cup. “Oh, uh...you’re welcome. It was nothing. Are you not feeling well? I can get some tea instead...”

“I just need silence,” Koltira hisses. He frowns down at Alisbeth, then turns away and stomps off, unsure where he’s actually going.

“Bye Kolty.” Alisbeth gives a happy sigh. “I love you.” She smiles at the fire. “He makes me happy. Does Gordo make you happy?”

Anarchaia sighs in the man’s wake and turns back to Alisbeth with another tired smile. “I’m glad he makes you happy.” She sobers at the question. “I suppose he does...in a different kind of way. But don’t worry about me. I have someone I can always talk to if I need to.”

“The voice in the crystal,” Alisbeth says. “What do they look like?”

She nods and brings a finger to her cheek as she thinks. “Well, he’s old.” She chuckles. “Silver hair, hazel stubble on his face.” The mage pokes her own cheeks with two index fingers and grins. “High cheek bones. Blue eyes. Very tall.”

“I like white hair,” Alisbeth sighs. “Silver counts as white, doesn’t it? ‘Cause I like Koltira’s hair.”

“I suppose it does.” She begins to regret leaving the feather at the inn. “Especially since hair can’t _truly_ be silver.” Anarchaia runs her fingers through Alisbeth’s locks as if to emphasize her point.

“My hair used to be black.” She smiles at the fire. “The more they took from me...the whiter my hair turned. I don’t like my hair. What color is yours?”

“I like your hair,” the mage says with an endearing smile, not wanting to press the subject. “And mine’s white, too.”

Alisbeth smiles and stares into the fire.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

Koltira stays gone for hours, anger burning in his chest. But not anger at Grimory; anger for his own shortcomings. Faults in himself and his marriage that are so obvious even the demon hunter had sniffed them out with barely a glance into their lives. When the sun started to rise, Koltira still sat, thinking and worrying, until he forced himself back to the camp in the grey morning to find the two girls still sitting by the fire, Alisbeth holding a stick inside the flames, then pulling it out to stare at the burning wood. She smiles brightly when she sees him. He smiles a weary smile back, then kneels beside her and wraps his arms around to hold her.

“I wouldn’t change anything about you. Not now, not ever,” he whispers.

Anarchaia remains motionless beneath the tree she’d settled under a few yards away, hands clasped around a knee while the other rests on the ground. In the hours they’d been alone, she had finished her wine around the same time they’d run out of things to talk about. Her face again completely covered by her mask, she tilts her head away as if to signify that she’s not eavesdropping. She stifles a yawn with the back of a hand and does her best to appear uninterested.

Koltira smiles at Anarchaia. “How was your night, Ana? Get any rest?”

The mage turns to smile as if she hadn’t been listening. “Quiet. It was nice.” She chuckles and stretches. “And yes. I slept for _hours_.” The dirt crunches beneath her boots as she pushes herself to her feet. “Ready for another day of walking?”

Alisbeth slumps. “Yay...walking.”

Koltira chuckles. “I can carry you. Though I don’t have any handles for you to hold.”

She cocks an eyebrow at him, confusion twisting her expression. Then it slowly spreads into a smile and she falls against him, laughing hysterically.

Anarchaia rummages through her rucksack and removes her clean robes before throwing them over herself. While buttoning her hood at her throat, she ducks into the tent and gives Grimory a gentle shake. “Hey, Grim. S’time to get up.”

“Yeah, I heard,” the man groans, his brow furrowing blearily.

The corners of the mage’s lips pull into a slight frown and she leans forward, rubbing her thumb against the dried blood on his face. “You should bathe before we leave.”

Grimory swats her hand away and forces himself to a sit. “I know.” He rubs his large palms over his face, then grinds a knuckle into his eye to rid it of sleep. “Suppose I should have done so last night. Oh well.”

Koltira stands, leaving Alisbeth poking at the fire. He wraps his hands around the now copper handle of the sword in the tree; blue replaces the copper color like dye spreading through water. It takes a few tugs, but he gets it free. Grimory’s blood has dried on the blade, reminding him to look at himself—he finds a torn shirt and blood spattered everywhere. He sighs at his own rash actions and senseless anger. He grabs his toiletries and a skein of polishing oil for the sword, kisses Alisbeth’s forehead, and makes his way to the lake.

Not having seen Koltira leave, Grimory steps out of the tent and stretches with a hand on his lower back. He grabs the soap as Anarchaia extends it to him and, scratching at the dried blood on his chest, makes his way toward the lake as well. Upon reaching the lakeside, he stops and narrows his eyes at Koltira, then cautiously continues to the water a ways down the shore. He kneels and scoops up a bit of water in a palm before throwing it against his chest and scrubbing.

Koltira eyes Grimory warily before the other goes down the shore. He purses his lips and decides to be quick about his business. He finishes rinsing Byfrost, then dries and oils the blade. Afterward he removes his shirt, discarding the shredded fabric. He cleans sparingly, aiming only for the blood spatters on his skin. For extra measure, he flips his long white hair into the water, rubbing soap into the crusted red blotches clumping it together.

The demon hunter continues to pretend he is alone, bringing more palms full of water to his face and unfastening his belt to clean it was well. The discomfort makes him part his lips as words spring to them, but he soon swallows them again. He does his best to not let water drip down, lest it cause ripples and obscure his reflection as he does his best to comb out the stains in his beard. He inspects his face for a possible scar.

Koltira grits his teeth as Grimory opens his mouth. _Don’t,_ he thinks. He tosses his head back, his hair fanning out as water splashes everywhere. After the ripples settle he checks his reflection for anything, then decides he’s finished. He collects his things—including the torn shirt, half hoping Anarchaia can fix it—slings Byfrost over his shoulder, and heads back toward the camp, clenching his jaw and avoiding looking in Grimory’s general direction.

The corner of Grimory’s mouth twitches as he grimaces, struggling to do all he can to not say anything. Instead, he allows Koltira to leave well before him, as to avoid coming upon him on the way back.

Anarchaia pulls her hood over her head to keep out the cold morning chill after deconjuring the tent and sleeping furs. “Do we need to keep the horse around?” she asks Alisbeth, eyeing the beast.

Alisbeth goes over to pat Bloodmist. “She has our packs and is trained in battle. Good horse to have.” She eyes Anarchaia. “Why?”

The mage taps her fingertips together. “No reason,” she mumbles and clears her throat before throwing her own bag over a shoulder.

When satisfied with his work and the distance between himself and Koltira, Grimory straightens and makes his way back to camp, tossing the soap idly as he walks.

Koltira slips in beside Alisbeth at the horse to put his things away. Alisbeth gives him a look. “What?”

“I don’t think Alibaba is okay with Bloodmist,” she says low.

Koltira sighs and secures Byfrost in a strap. “I’ll be right back.” He goes to stand at Anarchaia’s shoulder. “Everything okay?” He speaks quietly, so only she can hear.

Anarchaia glances up to the death knight and furrows her brow in confusion. “Of course it is. Why wouldn’t it be?” she responds dismissively.

Grimory steps back into the clearing. He tosses his soap back into his bag and secures it about his waist without a word.

Koltira narrows his eyes and turns so his back is to Grimory. “Ali suggested you’re not okay with the horse?”

Anarchaia pauses. She lowers her head and inhales as though to answer.

“She’s afraid of horses.” Grimory picks at his teeth with a single morphed claw while leaning against a tree on the far side of their campsite. “Are we going, or...?”

Koltira glares over his shoulder at Grimory. “I think Ana can answer for herself.” He sets a gentle palm between her shoulder blades and whispers softer. “It’s okay. Just be honest with me.” He smiles down at her.

Grimory scoffs again and rolls his eyes.

She stiffens at the touch. “I had some trauma involving one as a child,” the mage admits, still tapping the tips of her index fingers. “I’ve just...never really gotten over it. Heh. But it’s fine. I won’t make you get rid of it or anything.” She nervously adjusts her hood. “I’d just prefer it stay at a considerable distance.”

Koltira lets out a long, heavy breath. He spins and shoots Grimory a glare as he goes back to Bloodmist. “Put on your armor and collect your pack,” he instructs Alisbeth.

“But...why?” she asks as she obeys.

“If you do it without asking you can carry your Maw.” Alisbeth brightens and is dressed in almost no time with her pack on her back, her hands eagerly twitching for the axe. Koltira also dresses, sighing at the torn shirt as he pulls it on, then covers it with his armor. Once he is ready he takes Bloodmist by the reins. “Hey. Go home.”

The horse grunts in disapproval.

“Hey. Now you listen here, Bloodmist. You go home”

Alisbeth wraps her arms around the horse’s neck. “If you go home I’ll bring you rotten apples!”

The horse nudges her, then turns and gallops away.

Alisbeth laughs. “Sometimes I think she loves me more than you!”

The mage perks and waves her hands erratically. “Nonono I said you _didn’t_...have...to...” Anarchaia sighs in guilt-ridden defeat, her hands falling back to her sides. She glances at Grimory—who gives an apathetic shrug—and rubs a palm against her cheek. “All right. Well...I guess we’re off.”

Koltira hands the Maw to Alisbeth and she gives it a loving hug. He then goes to Anarchaia and slings an arm over her shoulder as they walk. “Naw. It’s okay. I’d rather you feel safe than force Bloodmist to be nothing more than a pack animal.” He glances at Alisbeth, who is still fawning over getting to carry her weapon. He leans to whisper in the mage’s ear. “Speaking of which— _do_ you feel safe?”

The mage buckles momentarily under the weight of Koltira’s metal-clad arm. “Uhhh...” she drones as she recovers. She also shoots a glance back toward Alisbeth then up to the man beside her before her eyes finally come to rest on the path ahead. “Yes?”

“Don’t lie,” Koltira insists. “I really am enjoying...most of this endeavor we’ve only just begun. I want you to feel safe.” He removes his arm from her shoulder and pokes her nose.

Grimory watches the two carefully from the back of the group. Koltira’s words from the night before ring through his ears and he does his best to contain his jealousy.

Anarchaia flinches and the apples of her cheeks flush as her nose is prodded. Her brow furrows in genuine confusion. “Is there something I should know about?” she inquires quietly.

Koltira purses his lips and prays for patience as he hears Grimory, assuming the demon hunter was doing his best to piss him off. He clears his throat and stares down at Anarchaia. “Your master told you. I know he did.”

“Oh.” Anarchaia brings the side of a finger horizontally to her lips. “I think I’ll be okay. She seems to like me, right? Heh.” She shrugs and grins uneasily. “Should be safe.”

Koltira shrugs. “She does. I’m sure that’s enough. If nothing else, you’ve got me in your corner.” He winks down at the mage.

The mage blinks up at him, taken aback. “You’d fight her if she attacked me?” she whispers in disbelief, thinking to herself that she must have misunderstood.

Koltira cringes. “I... wouldn’t fight her. But I would do everything in my power to stop her.” He tries to smooth it over with a charming smile.

Anarchaia purses her lips, suspicious. “Well that’s very kind of you, Mr. Koltira.” She pats him gingerly on his pauldron. “It shouldn’t come to that, however. I have means of avoiding conflict.”

Koltira shrugs. “I tried. Say, while I’ve got you... My shirt is torn. I was wondering if you have any way of fixing that?” He stares at his feet, embarrassed to be asking. “I really should get more shirts.”

Her lips curl into a triumphant grin. “I recall telling you that very thing,” she responds playfully and chuckles. “I can probably do that under the condition it isn’t missing any pieces. Though even then I could just sew it as opposed to using magic.”

Koltira sighs in relief. “Thank you. I owe you.”

Anarchaia waves a hand and chuckles again. “It’s really nothing. Keep your favors, noble death knight.”

Koltira laughs. “Nope. Already said it. Can’t take it back now.”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes, her smile widening. “You better not do me any favors.” She pokes Koltira weakly in the chest as they walk. “Then I’ll owe you a favor Then you’ll owe me another.”

Koltira shrugs at the mage. “What are you going to do to stop me?”

Anarchaia places her hands on her hips and straightens her back. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”

“Oh, don’t I?” Koltira challenges.

“Not sure how much you’d fancy being forcibly turned into a farm animal.” Anarchaia holds her nose up and gives him a sideways smirk. “My guess is ‘not very much’.”

Koltira’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

The mage bends slightly at the waist and wiggles her fingers in a menacing fashion. “Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“No, I don’t think you would. You’re too nice and you like me too much.” He smiles, hoping his charm is enough.

Anarchaia lets her arms fall to her sides and gives a dramatic sigh. “You’re right,” she groans. “Maybe if you were more of a jerk...”

Koltira shrugs and laughs. “Guess I’ll have to try harder?”

“Or I could get over my aversion to polymorphing charming death knights.” She gives him a sly grin and wiggles her fingers again.

“You know many charming death knights?” Koltira laughs.

“Just you and a friend of mine.” She instead stretches her arms over her head. “Don’t know many other death knights at all, to be honest with you.”

“So, you now know two charming death knights, and yet you still keep company with meathead back there,” Koltira says.

Anarchaia gives a dry laugh. “I didn’t choose to adventure with him. It was just sort of arranged.” She sobers. “To be honest I’d rather be back in my room.”

Koltira grimaces. “Well it’s not too late for that.” He chuckles absently. “Though, then we’d all be going home, wouldn’t we?”

“No,” she responds with a shrug. “Then _you’d_ be the ones stuck with meathead. Besides, I’m glad I’ve met you two. While I miss my room, it does get lonely.”

Koltira drags Anarchaia to his side to give her head a friendly one armed hug against his chest. “I’m glad I met _you_. Can’t quite say the same for...”

Anarchaia giggles embarrassedly and, unsure of how to react, pats Koltira on the forearm. “O-Oh, you’re too kind. And he’ll grow on you. Just give it time.”

Koltira releases Anarchaia. “After last night I’d rather just keep to myself.”

The mage readjusts her hood. “What was that about, anyway? And more importantly, can I trust that it won’t happen again?”

Koltira grits his teeth. “Ehh.” He scratches under his chin then runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s...not really something worth mentioning. Childish nonsense. Really. And I...should have been the bigger man. But I wasn’t.” He clears his throat awkwardly.

Anarchaia narrows an eye but ultimately shrugs. “All right. Just do your best to get along? I really don’t like having to break up altercations.”

“Speaking of altercations,” Koltira says, glancing back at the other two.

Anarchaia follows his gaze, then turns back and shakes her head.

~ * ~

Grimory turns his attention to Alisbeth. “That’s some nice steel you got there, girlie.”

Alisbeth smiles. “This is my special demon terror. You should see them run when they figure out what it is! And then I just pull them right back to me and—” She swings the axe around so hard she does a complete three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, coming out of it laughing.

Grimory echoes her laugh, a hand over his stomach. “Great form! Gul’dan better keep an eye out for you.” He gives the woman a playful nudge with his fist. “You’ll have the Burning Legion screaming with their tails between their legs.”

Alisbeth holds the blade up to Grimory’s jaw, a spike poking at the soft flesh beneath. “Does it scare your inner demon?”

Grimory grins down at her and turns his head so that the point scrapes against the cut hairs there. “The only thing that bastard fears is me.”

Alisbeth purses her lips. Air releases slowly to make a rude sound as she tries not to laugh. Finally, she gives in, pulling away her axe to bend over and laugh. “Do you even hear yourself? I mean, it’s like you have no filter on what you say! That was so _bad_!” She pokes a finger into his bicep. “So, so bad, Gigapet. So bad.”

Grimory chuckles again and beams down at her. He feigns a wince as she pokes him. “Too dramatic? I can be worse if you’d like.” “You’ve never indulged in some melodrama? I highly recommend it. Good for the ego.” He gives her back a hearty pat.

Alisbeth _oof_ s and stumbles forward with the pat. She flails her arms for a moment then straightens. “Like that?”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows, grin unwavering. “You’re a pro.”

Alisbeth smiles shyly at Grimory and waves a hand in the air. “Oh, stop.”

The demon hunter grasps her hand and leads Alisbeth into a twirl. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he hums, minding the axe as it passes by.

Alisbeth laughs through the spin. When she stops her smile falls and she steps to the side, creating a large space between them. “Stop it. Stop acting like this.” She hugs her axe again, a thumb plucking sideways across the blade.

Grimory blinks and lowers a brow, hand still outstretched. He retracts it as a mixture of offense and confusion overtake him. “Stop acting how? Nice? If you insist...”

Alisbeth squares her jaw. “You don’t like me. Not the way you’re acting like you like me. It’s hurting my feelings.”

Grimory’s eyes widen slightly and he glances away. He frowns. “I’m just treating you like I would any friend. But if it’s hurting your feelings, I’ll stop.”

Alisbeth shakes her head insistently. “If you were treating me like a friend you’d be moody and uncaring. That’s how you treat Abby, and she’s your friend.” She slips the handle of her axe between her armor and backpack. “You lied about being my friend because you’re just like everyone else, huh? You think I’m not all there? That’s what Thassarian says. He thinks it sounds better than calling me crazy.” She folds her arms over her chest and stares at the ground to kick rocks as she comes to them. “I’m not crazy,” she mumbles.

Grimory sobers and mimics her posture without realizing. “I don’t normally treat Ana this way,” he murmurs. “And I do consider you a friend. You’re pretty...hyper but that doesn’t bother me any.” He looks away and scowls. “And I may be a lot of things, but I’m no liar.”

Alisbeth grits her teeth, saying nothing for a long beat. “Why do you treat her differently now? Don’t you think that hurts her feelings?”

Grimory clears his throat. “She started treating me differently first. But it’s not important.” He rubs at a shoulder.

Alisbeth frowns. “Treating her this way because she is treating you this way only makes it worse.” She straightens, anger flashing past her face. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

He sighs. _She’s right._ Grimory casts the girl a suspicious sideways glance. “I’m welcome for what?”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes at Grimory. “I jumped in front of a sword for you, and you didn’t even ask if I was okay! And what the _hell_ were you two fighting about, anyway?”

Grimory jerks his attention back to Alisbeth. “Oh, gods, you’re right. I didn’t thank you.” He clears his throat again, flushing. “Thanks, Ali.” He chews on the inside of his lower lip and hesitates. “Why did you do that, anyway?” he asks, avoiding her question.

Alisbeth narrows her eyes at Grimory. “To keep it from hitting you, of course. It would’ve killed you! Especially with how hard he threw it. I checked my boobs this morning and I’ve got a bruise between them now.” She chews on her bottom lip. “So...what was the fight about?”

“I would’ve been okay,” Grimory grumbles. “And...it was nothing. Just a disagreement.” He inspects his nails. “He insulted me. That’s all.”

“My _boobs_ are _bruised_. Do I need to show you? And besides, when friends disagree, they talk it out. They don’t try to kill each other!” Alisbeth scratches her scalp. “At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“Men do,” Grimory responds curtly with a small grin. “And I’m...sorry you got hurt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Alisbeth snorts. “If it happens again with another weapon, you’re on your own to be cut in half, buddy. And, dammit! _What_ in all of Azeroth were you two idiots fighting about?” She slaps her palms to her thighs in frustration.

“I told you it’s not important,” Grimory grumbles from the back of his throat. “We were just sizing each other up. It’s no big deal.”

Alisbeth crosses her arms. “I don’t believe you. I really, really don’t believe you. But since you’re not gonna tell me, I guess I’m just going to have to pout.” She sticks out her lower lip at him and makes her eyes as sad as possible. Her gaze remains locked on him as she walks.

Grimory stares blankly at Alisbeth, lips in a slight frown. “That don’t work on me, girlie.”

Alisbeth turns her lips down at the corners, increasing the frown. She whimpers and a tear gleams at the corner of one eye.

Grimory narrows his eyes, intent on winning the staring match. “I’ve already told you.”

Alisbeth glares at Grimory and wipes the tear from her eye. “ _Fine!_ ” She leaps on him with a shout, reaching to wrap her hands around his horns. “I heard my name and you can’t tell me it’s none of my business because I heard my name and I heard Artichoke’s name and I know you’re keeping something from us that would make Koltira seem like he was hitting you with a twig and when I figure it out you’re going to get it, mister, you’re abso-tively going to get it.”

Grimory grits his fangs and tries to relieve himself of Alisbeth’s iron-like grip. “We were just mentioning you two in passing! The fight wasn’t _about_ you!” _If either of them ever find out, I deserve whatever I get. But until then..._

Alisbeth clambers up Grimory’s side and kneels on his shoulders. She sends the flat of her palm into his scalp. “You said you don’t lie! That’s a lie! Lie! Lie! _Lie!_ ”

The demon hunter flinches and hisses as he’s struck on the head. He reaches up to grab Alisbeth and pulls her from his shoulders. He holds her at arms’ length by the pits of her arms as he would an animal. “Look. He just...told me I needed to treat Ana better. But he was a dick about it. I didn’t like it so I started the fight. Okay?”

Alisbeth glares at Grimory, deflating like a wet kitten. “What about me?”

“I told him the same about you,” he grumbles, setting the death knight back on her feet.

Alisbeth squares her jaw and sticks her nose up in defiance. “Koltira treats me just fine. You don’t even know him.”

“You know what? You’re right. You win. Can we just continue on, now?” Grimory pushes past her, folding his arms over his chest and scoffing in irritation.

Alisbeth purses her lips and glares at the back of Grimory’s head. She pulls her axe from behind her and rushes to catch up to him. As she reaches the demon hunter, she spins, aiming the fang-toothed skull in the center right at his mouth.

Upon hearing the familiar sound of a weapon being drawn Grimory turns. He leans out of the way of the broad side of Alisbeth’s axe just in time—the breeze from the swing blows through his hair. He stumbles backward, his breath still held in his chest. “Wh-... _What the hell?!_ ”

Alisbeth says nothing, just glares at Grimory before turning and running to catch up with the others. She passes them and stops to face Koltira. Once he’s close enough she goes up on her tip toes to give him a deep kiss. She smiles at Anarchaia then falls into step with them, clasping a hand through her husband’s.

Anarchaia returns the smile hesitantly and falls back to ask her companion if he’s all right. He gives a small nod, despite being shaken.


	13. Chapter 13

The day crawls on and dark clouds roll in. Anarchaia pours over the map and frets about how far they’ll travel before either nightfall or rain impedes them. “Talonrest is where we’ll pass through next, but we won’t make it there until tomorrow at the very earliest.”

Grimory glances at the sky and holds back a shiver as a cool wind blows by.

Alisbeth makes a face at the new location. “What happened to the other place? You said we were going to a place and I liked the name. Weren’t we going to kill things?” She folds her arms over her chest and pouts. “I wanted to kill things.”

“We passed the Weeping Bluffs this morning since we didn’t quite make it there yesterday. Sorry if you wanted to stop and sightsee,” Anarchaia says to Alisbeth She rolls the map back up.

Alisbeth deflates She kicks a stone and mutters about missing the bluffs—though it’s clear she doesn’t understand that it’s a name, not a quality of the land.

Koltira chuckles and wraps an arm around Alisbeth, but turns his apologetic smile on Anarchaia. “I do have to wonder what our end destination is, rather than places along the way.”

“Our final destination is the Halls of Valor. And I’m told that the further into the heart of Stormheim we go, the more dangerous it will be. You’ll get to do plenty of killing, Ali.” She cringes at the thought.

 She perks up at the promise of killing. “Lots and lots of killing?” Alisbeth asks excitedly.

“Uh...sure.” She glances up at Grimory who merely shakes his head.

“Just make sure you save your axe for _enemies_ , okay?” the demon hunter hisses.

Alisbeth waves a dismissive hand. “I didn’t even hit you with it.”

Koltira clears his throat. “You know, I think we all could do with a reminder to keep our weapons to ourselves.”

Anarchaia lifts her hands defensively. “What? What have _I_ done?”

“Weren’t you the mage threatening me not too long ago?” Koltira cranes his neck around to wink at her.

Grimory gives a bit of a smirk and shoves the mage gently. “Oh, you’re the _worst_ of all of us,” he says, feigning seriousness. “We can’t take you anywhere. Brush fires and sheep everywhere.”

Alisbeth spins a wild smile to Anarchaia. “Is that true? You light fires everywhere?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, but bounds over to the mage. “We are going to have _so much fun_ together!”

“ _I was joking!_ ” she cries with a pout. Anarchaia turns to Alisbeth and folds her arms across her chest. “And no, I don’t! I don’t like to hurt people...”

“You seemed to have no problem slamming me against that tree last night,” Grimory mumbles out of the corner of his mouth.

“You want me to do it again?!” the mage growls, fists clenched and smoldering with violet energy.

“We’re just messing with you, Ana.” Grimory pats her gently on the head with a smile and chuckles at her reaction.

“ _Don’t be condescending to me!_ ”

Alisbeth’s eyes light up and she grins like a harpy. “Oh, no, Gataca, please, keep doing what you’re doing.” She prods at Anarchaia’s shoulder. “Come on Anacar, he’s pissing you off, right? You wanna hurl him, don’t you? _Don’t you?_ ” She leans close, the most manic wide-eyed expression on her face, and whispers. “Let’s be wild.”

Anarchaia recoils from the girl. “I... No, thank you.” She pokes her fingers together nervously. “I’m not really a wild person.”

“Oh c’mon, Ana. Have some fun for once,” Grimory hums, gently poking her other arm. “Don’t you wanna use your infinite powers to throw me across this field?” His grin widens, knowing she doesn’t actually have the desire to do such a thing.

“Guys, stop,” the mage groans, hugging herself tightly.

Alisbeth circles around Anarchaia like a cat, still grinning. She slowly wraps her arms over the mage’s shoulders and weaves her fingers together in front. She presses her cheek to Anarchaia’s. “Let loose. It’s okay to not have every ruffle of your little dress in place. It’s okay to have fun with your friends.” She squishes a kiss hard into Anarchaia’s cheek.

Anarchaia reluctantly accepts the harassment and frowns. “Causing pain and chaos is not my idea of _fun_.” She tries to wriggle free from Alisbeth’s grasp.

Grimory laughs at her discomfort. “Listen to her, Ana. Turn us to sheep. Light our hair on fire. Freeze our eyeballs to their sockets.” He pulls a lower eyelid down with a finger to antagonize her more.

Alisbeth jumps a little in excitement. “The sheep thing doesn’t cause pain! Turn Grover into a sheep ‘cause he’s been a _ba-a-ad_ boy.” She winks up at him.

Koltira blinks at them, looks up the path, then sighs back at the rest of the party. “We should probably keep moving, right Ana?”

Reaching the end of her rope, Anarchaia ducks from Alisbeth’s grasp, runs ahead a few paces, and a turns. A scowl on her face, she stomps her boot into the gravel and with a loud _poof!_ both the girl and demon hunter are turned to fluffy, black-faced sheep. She turns and trudges away, leaving them in her wake.

Grimory blinks around in confusion. He notices Alisbeth and, not having the capability to laugh, bleats loudly.

Alisbeth turns at the sound of bleating. She sees Grimory and tries to laugh at him, but only bleats as well.

Koltira smiles at Anarchaia as she nears him. “Two at once. Very nice. Can they stay that way until we need them? I’m sure we’d have less trouble with a couple of sheep.”

“They’re much quieter this way as well,” she grumbles, pulling her hood back over her head. “Sadly, people become rather resistant to it the more you do it to them.”

Grimory nudges Alisbeth with the tip of his muzzle and gestures at the two ahead, ears flopping. He stomps at the ground and lowers his head, then looks at her again.

Alisbeth hunches down, her eyes on Koltira’s rear. She glances at Grimory and snorts to indicate she’s ready.

Koltira sighs. “Such a shame.”

Grimory mimics, planting his small hooves firmly in the dirt before bursting forward with a speed only a four-legged animal can muster.

“We can always just—” Anarchaia cries out in surprise as her legs are knocked out from beneath her. She grunts as her hind end hits the ground hard, her hood falling forward into her eyes.

Koltira turns as Anarchaia is upended, then the world turns on its side as he too is knocked over.

Grimory’s bleating melts into a booming laugh as his shifts back to his normal form, sitting on the dirt path with both hands over his abdomen.

The little black lamb skids along the dirt, coming to a stop as Alisbeth, who curls into a ball of hysterical laughter at Grimory’s side. She tries to speak several times, but only laughs harder as her words come out as a slurred mess.

Koltira groans. “I take it back. Sheep is just as bad.”

Anarchaia inhales, loud and slow through her nostrils, fists trembling in the dirt. She pushes herself to her feet and, for once, doesn’t brush the sediment from her robes. Saying nothing, she continues on down the path, storming between the two.

Grimory stands as well, nearly breathless from laughter. “That...That was _too good_. Oh gods. Ana! Ana, wait! Polymorph us again!”

“K-Kolty, help me up.” Alisbeth reaches her arms up as he stands. He purses his lips down at her, then walks around so she can’t grab onto him. “Kolty!”

He doesn’t turn around as he tries to catch up to Anarchaia. “You okay?” He asks her once he’s near enough.

“‘m fine,” she responds with a sigh. “He used to be the one to complain about babysitting _me_.” She scowls. “Looks like the tables have turned.”

He sighs and pats Anarchaia’s shoulder. “Maybe Ali is just rubbing off on him.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows in Koltira’s wake, the hints of a smile still on his features. He instead holds his own hand out to help Alisbeth up. “Someone can’t take a joke.”

Alisbeth accepts Grimory’s hand up, her eyes still trained on Koltira. She stoops and grabs a stone the size of her fist. She rears back and throws it at the back of Koltira’s head, then sets about dusting herself off as though she hadn’t just done that. He lurches forward from the impact and grabs the back of his head, then spins to glare at the two. Alisbeth looks up, eyes wide, and jerks a thumb at Grimory. Koltira stomps forward to get in Grimory’s face.

“You got something you want to say to me?”

Anarchaia stops and whirls around at the noise, eyes widening at the impending conflict.

Grimory frantically glances between Alisbeth and Koltira, his smile gone. He debates internally on what to say and ultimately decides he needs no more trouble with the man. “It wasn’t me,” he responds with a serious calm.

Koltira clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to yell at him anyway. He then grips Alisbeth by the arm and drags her from the road and behind a tree to speak to her in private.

Anarchaia looks up at Grimory as he walks to her. “Was it really her?” she whispers despite being far enough away for the other two not to hear.

“Yes. She’s trying to cause trouble.” He scoffs. “But it looks like he believed me. I’m actually kind of surprised.”

After a long few minutes Alisbeth shuffles out onto the road, her face cast down at her feet. Koltira steps out behind her.

“Let’s go,” he urges, and Alisbeth begins walking, he several steps behind and strapping her axe to his pack.

Instead of asking if everyone is okay as she normally would, Anarchaia glances back up to the sky. “We should focus on finding another spot for camp, or we’ll be at the mercy of the weather.” She clears her throat. “And I’d rather not fall ill if I’d have my way.”

Grimory gives a nod. “Same. Hopefully our friends have a tent.”

“I can always grab another from the supply barracks back home, if they don’t.”

Alisbeth walks straight up to Anarchaia and waits patiently for the two to finish talking. “I’m sorry I...” She wipes her eyes and nose, which are both running. Tears quickly replace what she’d wiped away. “I’m sorry for my actions...” She stares anywhere but at them, wringing her hands nervously. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior from here on out.”

Koltira says nothing as he remains several feet behind her.

Anarchaia frowns. After a moment, she places a gentle hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder and wipes a tear from her cheek. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” She smiles. “Let’s just do our best to keep the chaos to a minimum, okay?”

Grimory rubs at his face as a drop of water lands there. He grumbles. “We got more important things to worry about.”

Alisbeth turns and starts walking, giving no indication that she even heard Anarchaia’s words.

Koltira stops, watching Alisbeth continue ahead of him. “What do you recommend?”

“Do you have a tent?” Anarchaia inquires, looking back at Koltira.

Grimory surveys the fields on either side of the path. “We could just take shelter beneath some trees until the rain passes. There’s plenty of pine around here.”

“I’d prefer some actual shelter. I don’t really like getting wet,” Anarchaia insists.

“We don’t have a tent, but a tree is fine for us. Ali!” he calls as she gets too far ahead.

She slows her walking but otherwise doesn’t respond.

“Just let me know if you change your mind.” Anarchaia says before turning and calling for Alisbeth to return to them. “We’re going to walk to the tree line and set up camp, Ali! Come back!” She readjusts her pack on her shoulder.

Alisbeth stops and returns.

Koltira motions at Anarchaia. “Lead the way.”

“I take it you were rather stern with her,” Anarchaia asks quietly as they make their way through the field, the tall grass becoming damp with the sprinkling of rain. “She seems upset. And calm.”

Grimory takes it upon himself to make sure Alisbeth is back with the group before following the others.

Alisbeth stops several feet in front of Grimory and stares at him for a long beat. She then turns and heads after the other two.

Grimory gives the girl an equally long stare before she turns and continues. He rolls his eyes and follows, still bitter about her attempt at breaking his jaw with her axe.

Koltira speaks low to the mage. “Not really. First, I reminded her what happens if I have to take her back to Acherus. When I calmed her down after that, I took her axe. That’s when she stopped talking. She only started crying when I showed her this.” He holds out his hand and pulls off his gauntlet. Blood is smeared in his palm with no injury to his hand. “Then I asked her to apologize to you. Almost thought she wouldn’t.” He replaces his gauntlet and shrugs.

Anarchaia’s hand reaches to his gauntlet as he makes to put it back on. “Hold on a moment. What is that? Are you okay? Is that from your _head_?”

Koltira nods. “She’s got an arm on her, I’ll give her that. That’s the only reason I thought Grim might’ve done it.”

“Wh-...Show me!” She cranes her neck to see the back of his head, looking for stains in his mass of white hair. “Head injuries are very serious, Koltira. Do you feel faint? Nauseas? _Anything?_ ”

He steps back, eyes wide. “Ana, I’m _fine_. I’ve honestly had worse.” He shifts to keep her from poking around in his hair.

Her lips thin to a line and the mage stops fussing. “Fine, but if you feel _anything_...” She points a finger in his face. “I don’t want any tough-guy business. You tell me.”

Koltira holds up his hands. “Ana, I am fine. If it gets bad I’ll just go hunting. You don’t need to worry over me, okay?” He sighs, then smirks. “Though it is kind of adorable.”

Anarchaia pauses then looks away to hide her embarrassment. “Didn’t realize caring about my friends was adorable.”

Hearing all of this from the back, Grimory scowls and trudges forward. He pulls Anarchaia’s bag from her shoulder before she can react. “I’ll set up the tent this time.”

She blinks her eyes after him as he presses forward into the trees. “But it’s easier if...I...” She furrows her brow in confusion, then flinches when a particularly large raindrop hits her on the nose.

Koltira stares between the two, then shakes his head. He reaches Alisbeth and uses an arm over her shoulders to guide her to a tree with thick, wide branches. “This one should be good, yeah?”

Alisbeth nods and allows him to take her pack. She removes her armor and drapes a blanket over it, then sits with her back against the tree trunk.

“Ali, I’m not mad at you, okay? My head hurts a little, but I’ll be fine.”

Without a word, she pulls her pauldron out and sets it upside down in the field beyond the reach of the tree’s protection. Koltira decides not to ask.

Once enough water has collected, Alisbeth takes her pauldron and uses her fingers to brush the liquid through Koltira’s hair. She takes a small cloth and works the blood free from the ivory strands. She takes time and care to make sure everything is clean, then kisses the wound. Again, completely silent, she stands and takes the cloth and the pauldron out into the field where she dumps the bloodied water and remains motionless as she waits for it to fill again so she can rinse the cloth.

Alisbeth drops her items to the ground, then holds out her hands to feel the rain drops on her skin. She closes her eyes and smiles, then begins to dance to a tune she hums. Koltira remains under the tree, but watches her with a small smile on his lips. Alisbeth stops and smiles wide at Koltira, he returns the smile as she picks up the cloth and pauldron and bounds over to him.

“Come on,” she says, urging him to his feet.

“Where are we going?”

“To heal.”

~ * ~

Anarchaia assists Grimory in setting up the tent in a big enough area, ignoring his protests. She sends a shockwave of thin flame over the ground, drying the grass. “Not sure it’s worth making a fire. Unless you’re cold?”

Grimory brushes the wet out of his beard. “No,” he lies, throwing their bags into the tent. He ducks inside and sits with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ana.”

She blinks and looks at him as she climbs inside and takes a seat. “Sorry? For what?”

“...for how I’ve been treating you.”

“How have you been treating me?” Anarchaia says, wrapping her fingers around the toes of her boots.

“Rudely. Bitterly. I was just reciprocating how you’ve been treating me...but that’s not an excuse.” Grimory scratches at his cheek. “So, I’m sorry.”

The mage smiles to herself. “It’s okay. You can make it up to me by being extra nice from here on out.”

Grimory furrows his brow and looks at her. “For how long?”

“Ever.” She laughs and pokes his nose.

He opens his mouth to retort, but instead smiles and glances out into the rainy woods. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Anarchaia looks him over for a moment. She pulls off her robes, dries them, and ties them around his shoulders. “I suppose we should have planned for cooler weather. Suramar is much warmer.”

“Mmmmaybe a second tent would be a good thing.” He shivers.

Anarchaia glances at him, stunned. “Are you worried about our travel companions?” she asks dramatically.

“Gods forbid I say nice things,” he grunts.

“I...suppose I can go poke my nose around the barracks. Will you be okay by yourself?” Anarchaia stands and steps out into the open, drops from the now pouring rain filtering through the pine needles and onto her exposed shoulders. He nods and she disappears in a flash of white, whirling light.

Sighing, Grimory pulls her robes tighter around his shoulders and takes in the scent of her perfume.

Sometime later, Koltira returns to the field with Alisbeth on his back, smiling as she rests her chin on his shoulder. They return to their tree and stare out at the pouring rain, which pitters onto their shoulders as the tree above fails to catch all of it.

Alisbeth leans her temple on his shoulder and weaves her fingers through his. “I missed the rain.”

He smiles. “So did I.”

Grimory sits in pensive silence for a long while. He jumps at the sound of matter and air being displaced.

Anarchaia puffs as she struggles to hold the heavy tent above her head, even though she’s not actually touching it. She appears to struggle as she assembles the much larger tent, then sighs when she’s fished, rubbing her back. “They only...had this one left.”

“You could have asked for help,” Grimory says, stepping out of the tent only a moment too late. “You seem to forget that often.”

“I can do things myself,” she breathes, straightening her back. “That’s very thoughtful of you, however.”

Alisbeth giggles. “You think she got the other one because he’s already pissed her off?”

Koltira shrugs. “I suspect they just need some alone time.”

“I bet she’s saying ‘ _You’re stupid and I hate your horns. I’m taking the bigger tent.’_ “

He chuckles and, against better judgment, decides to join, just to hear Alisbeth laugh again. “ _‘You’re completely right, Ana. I demand the bigger tent for my fat head.’_ “

Alisbeth laughs into his collar bone. “You’re good at this. Oh, oh, _‘I demand the bigger tent so I can have some privacy with my talking crystal!’_ “

Anarchaia pushes Grimory back into the tent, albeit weakly. “Stop getting yourself wet.” She notices the other two across the small distance between them and waves then over, gesturing to the tent.

Alisbeth waves at Anarchaia as though in greeting. “She’s so nice.”

“I think she wants us to go over there.”

“No,” Alisbeth scoffs. “She’s saying hi!” She waves at the mage again.

Grimory reluctantly sits back in the tent again and folds his arms. “What about you? You’re getting wet...”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” She conjures a few sleeping furs and throws them into each tent, one directly into Grimory’s face.

She turns back to see that the two have yet to come across the field. Anarchaia places her hands on her hips and yells. “Don’t make me come get you!”

Grimory pulls the furs snugly around himself, happy to be warm.

“I’ll be right back.” Koltira stands and trots to Anarchaia. “What are you yelling? And why are you standing out in the pouring rain?”

The mage sticks out her lower lip and squares her shoulders as though not bothered by the rain. “I got you guys this tent. Come get inside.”

Koltira quirks his mouth sideways. “I told you we were fine. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. You take it. Get dry. Have some you time away from...” he glances at the smaller tent. “Enjoy it, Ana.”

“Absolutely not.” She closes her eyes and turns up her nose in defiance. “I insist.” She tilts her head and pouts, her shoulders sagging. “You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, would you...?”

He purses his lips. “I really doubt it would hurt your feelings that much...but I’ll get Ali and get inside on one condition. You have to be in a shelter as well.”

Anarchaia blinks. “I can share with Grim. It’s what we normally do...”

Grimory glowers at nothing in particular as he listens to the conversation outside. _Ugh. Just get in the damn tent and stop pretending like you care about her._

Koltira makes a face. “If you’ll be fine in there, that’s good enough for me.” He taps her nose with his finger and trots back to Alisbeth. “She brought it for us.”

“Oh.” Alisbeth’s eyes widen. “Uh, tell her we don’t want it and she can have it.” She leans around Koltira to smile and wave away the offering.

“I already tried; she’s not hearing it. Gather your things.”

They collect up their items and Alisbeth runs forward to dive into the tent. She sets about checking that nothing inside her pack got wet—specifically her dress.

“Thank you,” Koltira says to Anarchaia, feeling somewhat awkward accepting the kind gesture.

Anarchaia waves a hand and grins. “Grim insisted.”

Grimory reaches a hand out to grab Anarchaia by the arm and pulls her into the tent. “Stop standing in the rain. Wasn’t it you who said you didn’t want to get sick?”

“Yes,” she says reservedly. “I probably won’t. Don’t worry about me. Not sure why I need to keep saying that.”

Koltira shrugs and climbs inside the other tent. “Everything good?” he asks as Alisbeth holds up her dress.

“Yep! Just fine.”

“So why did you have trouble holding up the tent but seemed to have no problem plucking me from my feet?” Grimory throws the other fur around her shoulders.

“Oh!” Anarchaia’s eyes light up beneath her damp mask. “It’s rather simple, actually. So, your body is made of mostly water, yes? I’m actually just able to ‘lift you’ by all the water inside you. I don’t even need to have a hold on all of it, just sort of—”

Grimory sets a hand firmly over where he knows her mouth to be. “Okay, thank you.”

Anarchaia smirks and grips his hand, holding it against her mouth. She breathes into his palm, the air escaping her lungs growing increasingly hotter.

Grimory quickly wrests his hand away before he’s burned, and chuckles. “Would you mind conjuring up something to drink? Kinda parched.”

She obliges, producing a couple mugs with streaming water and tea bags. “Thanks for doing your best to get along with Koltira, by the way. I can tell you’re trying...kinda.”

“Yeah, well,” he takes a sip, “you asked me to. I do most of the things you ask of me, don’t I?”

Anarchaia grins. “I suppose you do. Thanks.”

Alisbeth and Koltira lay on their backs listening to the rain and staring up at the roof of the tent. “Do you like them?” she asks suddenly.

He shrugs. “I like Ana. She’s very intelligent and kind. Grim...”

“I think he’s fun. She’s kind of dull but okay to talk to. And you don’t have to pretend you’re okay with what happened the first night.”

He grabs her in a hug. “It’s just awkward now, that’s all. As long as you come back to me, I can...live with our current arrangement.”

“I’ll always come back to you.” She grits her teeth and groans. “I miss sleep.”

He laughs. “Sometimes I do, too. Close your eyes and pretend. No laughing,” he says as she starts to giggle.


	14. Chapter 14

Alisbeth opens her eyes from her pretend sleep, realizing how quiet the world suddenly is. "It's stopped raining," she says.

Koltira nods.

She crawls to the front of the tent and peeks out at the soggy world beyond. The clouds begin to clear away, revealing the stars in the black night sky.

Anarchaia rests with her back against Grimory's sleeping figure as a child does the family dog while she skims through the pages of a book from her room. She tilts her head slightly when she hears voices in the next tent. She turns to see if her own tent mate is conscious, then returns to her book upon noticing his quiet, sleeping face. A small sigh escapes her—one of contentment and ease—then she slowly closes the pages within the cover.

"I suppose I can make a fire now," she says to her sleeping friend and crawls into the cool, damp field outside.

Alisbeth purses her lips at the mage, wanting to go talk to her, but torn because she knows Koltira will listen to make sure she stayed on track. _I just want some girl talk,_ she thinks.

The Forsaken stands and stretches, sending the book in her hand to whence it came. She glances around and hums in thought, then perks when she notices Alisbeth in the door of her tent.

"Oh, Ali!" She takes a step over and bends at the waist to meet her gaze, palms on her thighs. "Want to go firewood hunting with me? Everything around here is too wet."

Alisbeth bites her lip and looks back at Koltira. She meets Anarchaia's gaze, then looks at Koltira again. "I...um...I..."

"Just behave yourself." Koltira sits up and smiles at the two women. He plucks Alisbeth's boots from their pile of armor and hands them over. Then he holds out Alisbeth’s axe. "Don't kill anyone that isn't trying to kill you, and don't use it to chop down trees."

Alisbeth squeals and lands on him with a hug before running out of the tent to meet the mage. "I'm ready. I have my axe. I get to bring my axe." She holds it up in excitement as though Anarchaia hasn't seen it before.

Anarchaia smiles as she's shown the weapon. "And a fine axe it is. I definitely feel safer with it in your possession." She turns and leads her into the trees where she believes some dryer sticks and foliage may lie. "Did you have a good rest?" she asks. She plucks off a low-hanging, dead branch and gently places it in the air behind her to float obediently.

"I pretended to sleep while Koltira kept watch. I miss sleeping. Did you sleep well? Did you dream?" She reaches up to poke the floating stick and lets out an airy giggle.

"I..." She clears her throat as quietly as she can. "Yes. I did, thank you." Anarchaia bends and throws some dry pine needles up to float alongside the branch. "I don't remember my dreams," she lies. "They're always gone when I wake." She turns to look at her. "I've heard of spells that make you sleep. Potions, too. Have you tried them?"

Alisbeth's eyes widen. "No! No! I can't. I'm not allowed to sleep. I just like to pretend, you see? I just pretend I'm sleeping. But I can't sleep. See?" She nods emphatically then runs over to yank a dead branch from a tree and toss it at Anarchaia's floating collection.

Anarchaia swallows as she watches Alisbeth, jerking out of the way of the flying branch. "You don't want to sleep. I understand." She plucks a few twigs from a dying bush. "Are you enjoying your adventure so far, at least?"

"No," she gets in Anarchaia's face, "I _can't_ sleep." She nods, making sure the mage understands. Then she adds on a paranoid whisper, "They don't let us." After a quick glance around she smiles wide and turns to find more dry wood. "I like having friends." Her face falls to a frown. "I'm really sorry I made things bad earlier. I don't often throw things at Kolty but he just made me so mad and I just..." she scratches her scalp and looks around, calling up whatever she was trying to say. "I just get so lonely. That's why I went with Gimli. I wanted Kolty, not your horny friend." Her face scrunches like she's desperately lost as she rubs a palm across her forehead.

The mage nods in partial understanding and takes a step back. She busies herself below a tree, gathering more needles. "It's okay." She throws them into the growing mass. "And you don't need to explain yourself to me. What you and Grim do is none of my business. Together or otherwise." She holds in a sigh, suddenly thinking about all the relationships she'd made after her death. A jealousy for Alisbeth rises and she swallows it. "And your husband understands, so there's no one really for you to apologize to to begin with."

Alisbeth takes a twig and snaps it in frustration. "But I don't..." She hurls the two halves at the mass then stomps off ahead of Anarchaia to find more dry items to burn.

Anarchaia stands still, watching Alisbeth as she trudges off. She releases the sigh she'd been holding and scratches at the skin below her eye. Finally, she shakes her head and follows. "Don't wander too far," she mumbles, pulling off twigs and dry leaves as she walks. "I didn't bring the map and Grim isn't here to fly us out."

Alisbeth pops up beside Anarchaia, having made a circle of the area. Her arms filled with dry materials. "Hey! So, what do _you_ think of me? Really. Like, tell me what you think of me as though you're talking to someone else." She bites her lower lip, trying to hold in her excitement.

Anarchaia gives a small cry of surprise and terror, nearly stumbling and dropping all their tinder as she scrambles away. "Uh," she stammers, "I'd have to say you're...energetic. Fun-loving. You have a good heart." She straightens and makes sure the buttons holding her gloves are secure. "I think you're..." She sobers. "I think you're sad. Inside." Anarchaia avoids looking into the girl's face, scared of what she may have sparked.

Alisbeth frowns and shifts the bundle in her arms. "I'm going to be honest now, okay?" She screws up her face in thought. "I think you're too quiet and you don't say what you mean but you feel deeply, so you get hurt a lot because you hide yourself. I _am_ sad on the inside. I lost everything worth living for, and my life, all on the same day. But you... You're sad on the outside. But you love on the inside." Alisbeth purses her lips. "I think you'll be sad on the inside one day if you stay quiet. Secrets are bad."

Anarchaia's eyes widen, not having expected to be in the spotlight. She clenches her jaw and thinks in length about her response. "You still have Koltira." She turns away and the bundle in Alisbeth's arms pulls free from her grasp. "Sometimes secrets are better than truths," she continues after a moment. "Sometimes telling people how you feel about them will make you sad throughout. Not just on the outside." A beat passes through the space between them. The mage begins the walk back. "We've got enough wood."

Alisbeth rushes to catch up. "Abigail, wait!" She skids on the mud and comes to a stop in front of Anarchaia. She stares at the mage for a long beat, then steps forward and wraps her in a comforting embrace. "Well, I want to tell you how I feel, okay? I think you're the most wonderful Night Elf I've ever met. I'm glad you let me come with. It's nice being out and having friends." She places a kiss on Anarchaia's forehead.

Anarchaia allows the girl to hug her and, for once, doesn't return the sentiment. The words _Night Elf_ stand out more than the others and she closes her eyes, the one stinging with the threat of tears. "I...I'm glad you came with us, too, Ali." She brings a hand up to pat Alisbeth on the back. "Thank you." After one last gentle, one-armed squeeze, she continues on the path back to camp and motions for the girl to follow.

Alisbeth frowns after the mage. _She hates you_. She runs all the way back to camp. "She hates me," she announces to Koltira. "She can be your friend. I know she likes you."

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. "I... Let me go talk to her, okay?"

Alisbeth shrugs and sits down as he leaves the tent.

Anarchaia makes herself busy by neatly arranging the twigs and foliage in layers between the two tents. She glances around for rocks to contain the fire should she get lazy with controlling it. She also takes note that Alisbeth had gotten back and was safe in her tent, but turns away when she sees Koltira exit, knowing almost instantly what he wants. "I'm sorry. I upset her."

Koltira chuckles lightly. "It's an easy thing to do. She says you hate her, which I know can't be true. What happened?"

She kicks a stone into the circle, still avoiding looking up. "She...said some things about me—some _true_ things." She rolls another to join the rest. "I didn't react the way she thought I would." The mage crouches down beside the pile and sets it ablaze. "She thinks I'm angry...but I'm not."

He nods, smiling like he's figured it out. "She did that thing, didn't she? She asks your opinion of her so she can have an excuse to tell you what she thinks of you? And of course what she says isn't filtered by any sort of conscience and concern for how _you_ might take it." He kicks a few rocks to join hers.

"Yeah. The thing." Anarchaia stares at the rock he'd kicked in, and smiles nervously.

"Need help with anything specific?"

"Why do I get the feeling you aren't talking about the fire?"

He laughs. "I _am_ talking about the fire. But if there's something else..."

"No," the mage responds. She lifts the hem of her mask to show him a reassuring smile, leaning back to sit in the wet grass. "Thanks, though. I don't hate her. _I don't hate you, Ali!_ " she calls, tilting her head toward the tent.

Alisbeth pokes her head out of the tent and casts a suspicious gaze at Anarchaia. "You don't?" She steps out a little farther. "Can-can I help with the fire?"

"There's not much left to assist with but you're welcome to come sit." Anarchaia pats the ground beside her. "Grass is a little wet, however. Hope that doesn't bother you."

Alisbeth shuffles out as Koltira waves her forward. "I was just trying to make you feel good," she says. "I think you're so nice and I want you to know that." She twitches nervously. "I don't want you to be sad outside."

Anarchaia's eyes flick between Alisbeth and Koltira and she gives a painful, nervous laugh. "I-I'm not sad, Ali. I'm fine. Thank you for caring about me so much, but worrying isn't necessary. Just...come sit by the fire." She swallows and gives a wide, pleading grin. "Please?"

Alisbeth drops down near Anarchaia. "Okay." She smiles wide.

Koltira joins her on the other side.

The mage tilts her head to look up at the stars and the smoke billowing up toward them. She leans back, supporting herself with locked elbows, and closes her eyes. "Do you guys miss being alive?" she blurts in a casual tone, thinking perhaps asking a deeply personal question about them would take any focus off her.

Alisbeth smiles shyly. "I miss food and tasting all the treats of the holidays. And I miss sleep. And...I miss feeling winded after a well fought battle. Getting my heart racing and knowing, whether I won or lost, that I pushed myself to my limit and kept going anyway."

Koltira doesn't smile as he keeps his gaze in the fire. "I don't much miss being alive anymore, it's been so long. But I do miss Faltora. Every day, I miss him."

Anarchaia smiles at Alisbeth's words. "Those are good things to miss. As far as battles go, being...the way you are now...shouldn't hinder your tenacity. You should always feel like you've given all you could." Her smile fades, however, as she turns her attention to Koltira. She hesitates, debating on whether or not the topic is too taboo. "A family member of yours...?"

Koltira smiles softly. "My younger brother. He died the night before me." His brow furrows at the memory. "It all happened so fast. There was nothing I could do."

Anarchaia returns her eyes to the fire. "I'm sorry. It's hard losing a family member." She frowns. "He wasn't...raised, was he?"

Koltira flinches slightly. "No... He... They..."

"He got cut in half," Alisbeth says quickly. She takes Koltira's hand. "Sorry."

He gives her a gentle smile. "What about you, Ana?" He widens his eyes for a second at the slip. "What do you think you'd miss most about being alive?"

She turns her head slowly to look at him across Alisbeth's back, brow furrowed beneath her mask. She clenches her jaw. "Can't say I'd know," she responds coldly and cocks her head, a cautionary grin crossing her lips.

"Pretend!" Alisbeth chirps. "Like, I never thought I'd miss chocolate as much as I do. Never crossed my mind. But I thought I'd miss... Being warm or tanning my skin."

Koltira clears his throat. "I don't think this is a conversation most would join in. It's frightening to imagine your own death. And you never know who might be chosen as a death knight."

Anarchaia leans forward and places her elbows on her knees, folding her forearms over one another. "I couldn— _can't_ tan anyway. I'm not supposed to be in the sun much." She thinks about it for a long moment, deciding to humor them with an answer that won't give her away. "Can't say I'd make a very good death knight...but if I died I think I'd miss..." _Feeling loved. Being accepted. Being proud of who I am._ "Being warm, I suppose." She chuckles and wiggles her fingers. "And if I were Forsaken, I'd _really_ miss being able to scratch my back."

Alisbeth scowls, her face darkening.

Koltira clears his throat more emphatically. "Yes, I suppose being warm is a good one."

The mage takes note of Alisbeth's reaction and turns back to the fire. She rubs the back of her head and runs a pale tongue over her lips. "But I think I'd miss sleeping the most. I like to dream."

Alisbeth smiles again. "I liked the waking up part. Knowing it was a new day and anything could happen. And the times I would wake up next to Koltira." She nods and sets her head on his shoulder.

The mage smiles and turns to the two, squishing her cheek against her arms. Her lips part as though to say something else but she instead turns and places her chin on her arms instead. She bites her lip, thinking of something else to speak of, but the thought of more small talk makes her inwardly cringe. Instead, she remains silent and enjoys the sound of the fire and the few crickets that had only just learned of the rain's passing.

Alisbeth fidgets, her thin fingers rolling a clump of hair back and forth. Koltira wraps an arm behind her and directs a quick apologetic smile at Anarchaia before casting his eyes to the fire.

"Too bad for the rain," Anarchaia says quietly over the fire while ripping up grass and throwing blades into it—though most flutter about, never actually reaching the flames. "We would have made it to Talonrest, otherwise." She gives a light breath of a laugh. "Perhaps Odyn doesn't want us to continue."

Alisbeth gives a small _Ha!_ and without looking away from the fire says, "You really think some guy can control the weather like that?"

Anarchaia blinks and turns to Alisbeth, still throwing wet grass into the pit. "You've never met a Shaman? Well, a really powerful one, at least?"

She frowns at the mage. "I may have met a few, but never stopped to talk."

"Really developed Shamans can create rainstorms for miles. There are so few of those these days, though. Just like there's only a handful of Archmages. Do death knights have a hierarchy?" As soon as she finishes her question, her trusty quill and parchment are by her side, waiting as eagerly as she is.

Alisbeth's eyes go wide. "I-I don't know! We...serve the Lich King and... Well I don't know I didn't study them when I was alive, then when they found the heads I got locked up, so..." She throws a fistful of grass at the fire, as Anarchaia had, but her eyes flicker about, trying to watch every blade at once.

"Hm." Her smile falters over not getting the answer she's looking for. The quill scratches away regardless. "So..." She suddenly recalls an unanswered question from the first night she'd met them. "I hear tell of some death knights being able to control the undead." The quill stops. "Is that true?"

"Yes," Koltira answers before Alisbeth can. "Thassarian had a faithful minion for years. Lurid, I believe he called him. I hear they found his corpse in the aftermath of Andorhal."

The mage furrows her brow at the word minion and the quill instantly resumes writing, this time with added fervor.

Alisbeth's eyes narrow. "Nothing good happened there. Should've just burned Andorhal to the ground and left while we could." She wipes a tear from her eye and stands. "Excuse me." She walks past the tents and to a tree, which she proceeds to kick with her boot.

She follows Alisbeth with her eyes before turning them back to the fire.

Koltira moves closer to Anarchaia. "Andorhal is where she died, too," he says low.

 "Sorry I brought it up," she says in an equally low tone, knowing full well she hadn't but feeling the need to apologize anyway. "The name sounds familiar. What happened there?"

Koltira sighs. "I was dispatched as commander over the Forsaken forces trying to claim the city. Thassarian, for reasons I've yet to ask, was sent to lead the Alliance in taking the city. Both our armies—if you can call them that—were mainly trying to keep the Twilight Council from taking the area." He rubs his palms over his face and groans. "I could've ended the whole thing a lot sooner, but...Thassarian is...my brother, in a way. He and I came to a peaceful agreement that the humans didn't like, and so they attacked. After Andorhal was finally won, Ali and I were going to find somewhere quiet, away from judging eyes—I mean, the living and the dead having relations? Especially a death knight. So we kept it secret.

"The Banshee Queen determined I was too soft, and so took me to Undercity to be...reminded of how a death knight should act. Alisbeth was left behind, of course. Outnumbered and barely in good fighting condition..." He clears his throat as his eyes shimmer with moisture in the firelight. "Things would be so different right now."

"That sounds awful," Anarchaia finally says after a long moment. "War almost never ends without taking all it can beforehand." She glances over to see the sheen in his eyes and places a hesitant hand on his shoulder as though pleading with him not to cry. "It's no good dwelling on what might have been," she continues with a small smile, "it will only drive you mad. You seem to be making the best of your current situation anyway."

He laughs once—a bitter one without humor. "I'm sorry. I just... I spent four years dreaming of what I would come home to and," he shrugs, "it wasn't there." He sets his hand on hers, accepting the comfort. "You're right, at least I have her."

Anarchaia's smile brightens and she glances at Alisbeth at her mention. "You'll always have her." She retracts her hand and clasps it with the other around her knees. "She always talks about you when we're alone. It's very sweet. She has nothing but good things to say." The fire crackles and the quill and paper finally take their leave. "...and often apologies."

"Well, to be fair, she does have a lot to apologize to you for." He tosses a small stick into the flames and watches it burn.

"Not to me. To you."

His brow furrows. "She apologizes to _me_ when she's with _you_?"

"Well...she more like says how she regrets everything she does with other men. But that's all an apology is. An admission of regret." She leans back again, supporting herself with her arms, and stretches her legs out in front of her.

Koltira clenches his jaw and stares at the ground. "I know. She tells me, too." He tries to hide his discomfort from the mage.

Anarchaia gives Koltira a sideways glance and grits her teeth, cursing herself for the words she'd said. "S-Sorry... That was kind of personal. I forget myself. Heh."

"Hmm? Oh. No, you're fine." He straightens. "I feel I should apologize for dropping our mess on you all the time. We've only just met."

"Save it." She waves a hand. "There are more important things in life to apologize for. That's not one of them."

Koltira gives a gentle smile. "Fair point." He glances in at the sleeping figure of Grimory. "So, what about your friend? What's his _deal_?"

She blinks and follows his gaze to the tent. "Deal? How do you mean?"

Koltira shrugs. "What do you know about him?"

Anarchaia thinks for a long moment. "I know he grew up on a farm. He was imprisoned in a crystal for ten years by the Wardens. He's pretty loyal... Kind of a jerk sometimes but I think it's all a show."

"He's very quiet," Koltira says. "I think he talks to Ali, but I mean... how much is actually said or retained?" He glances back to where Alisbeth had been, but she's nowhere to be seen. "Did you see where...?"

"I never thought about it before but I suppose he is. Again, I think that's part of the...act..." Anarchaia trails off as she looks around as well. "No, I didn’t."

"I'm, uh...sure she's fine. Right?"

 

 ~ * ~

 

Alisbeth inches toward the smaller tent, her eyes trained on the peacefully sleeping figure of Grimory.

Grimory shifts in his sleep, pushing his cheek deeper into his makeshift pillow made of Anarchaia's robes. He shrugs the furs further over his shoulders.

Alisbeth slides into the tent as quiet as she can. She pulls down the furs and traces a finger along the swirl of the glowing tattoo on his pectoral.

Grimory, semi-conscious, brushes her fingers away, his brow furrowing in his sleep. "Ana, stop."

Alisbeth balls up her fist and frowns. As she raises her fist, she changes her mind and returns to playing with the glowing green on the demon hunter’s chest.

Grimory inhales sharply through his nostrils as he wakes completely. He lifts his head slightly to look down at his chest, hand ready to swat the other's away again, then sees Alisbeth and lies back. "Ali... What are you doing?" he groans groggily. "Is something wrong?"

"You glow when you sleep," Alisbeth hisses. "You glow in the dark. Does it make you tired?"

Grimory glances at the opening to the tent upon hearing laughter but turns his attention back to Alisbeth. "They're for protection. They dampen magic." He reaches for the hem of the furs once again. "Is that what you came in here for?"

"Mm-hmm!" Alisbeth nods emphatically. "I wasn't sure if you were awake or just glowing." She grins at him. "Don't mind me, just go back to sleep." She rests her head on one arm and stares at him.

Grimory lifts an eyebrow tiredly. "And you're just gonna...watch. While I sleep." He rubs at one of his cheeks with a palm and readjusts the robes beneath his head.

Alisbeth nods again. "It looks like fun. I bet it's fun. Hey, what's this?" She pulls at his makeshift pillow enough to see what it is. "Oh." Her smile falls. She purses her lips and shoves it back under his head.

Grimory's head jerks as the article is shoved back beneath it. "Oh? Oh what? You want to use it or something?" He readjusts it again and gives a joking smile through his haze of exhaustion. "Or are you jealous?"

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip. "Me? I, well, no, I-I, she's..." Alisbeth deflates. "Everybody likes her and takes her seriously. She starts talking and you guys listen and I start talking and everyone starts patting my head like I'm a child. And you use her robes as a pillow." She scratches her scalp and sighs, then turns away from him. "Go back to sleep, Gorignak." She gets on all fours to leave the tent.

Grimory sits up slowly, grasping Alisbeth's wrist before she can leave. "Hold on, Ali." He gives her a tired yet sympathetic frown. "Is there...something you'd like to talk about? I'm here, you know. I'm not always a giant jerk."

Alisbeth's frown deepens as she looks at his hand on her wrist. "I just want people to like me."

Grimory keeps his fingers curled around her wrist. "We _do_ like you, Ali. If we didn't, don't you think we'd have told you guys to hit the road days ago?"

Alisbeth shakes her head. "It's not the same. Just...go back to sleep." She tries to tug her arm free.

Grimory refuses to release her, his expression turning serious. "Come sit with me for a bit."

Alisbeth looks back toward the fire as she hears their laughter. "If you insist."

Grimory looks out to the two by the fire and releases her with a quiet sigh. "What is it you truly want? From me? From all of us?" His features soften. "Is knowing that we do, in fact, enjoy your company not enough?"

Alisbeth sits back, legs crossed and elbow on one knee to rest her cheek on her fist. "I don't know how to explain it. I just feel so alone sometimes." Her brow furrows. "Hey! You sleep!" She reaches over to press his head down and put her palm over his eyes.

Grimory lets his head get pushed back and his eyes covered, but he remains awake. "What can I do to help?" he says quietly, grasping her hand and pulling it from his face to look up at her.

"I don't know!" Alisbeth hisses, shoving her other hand over his lips and pressing tightly. "Sleep, damn you!"

Grimory stares, unamused, up at her. With a hand on her chest, he gently pushes her away so he can sit up . "If you didn't think I could help you, why did you mention it to me?" He rubs at the back of his head to straighten his hair. "You're a puzzle, Ali."

Alisbeth pushes at his hand just under her breasts while glaring at him. "I didn't come here to tell you anything! I came here because you were glowing! And it's pretty! And I wasn't sure if you were awake and if you were asleep I just wanted to..." She purses her lips, changing her mind about saying what she was about to.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows and tilts his head to turn his ear more toward her. "Just wanted to...?"

Alisbeth blushes and clears her throat. "I just wanted to...watchyousleepbecausenoonearoundheresleepsbutyou." She clamps her lips shut. "Okay?"

Grimory blinks at her, doing his best to keep the judgment out of his voice. "Why would you want to watch someone sleep? That sounds so boring." He lies back down, weaving his fingers together beneath his head. "I mean, feel free, but surely there's more exciting things to do."

Alisbeth leans closer. "There are, but I'm not allowed to do them on this trip." She smiles and begins tucking the furs around Grimory. She hums a child's lullaby as she tucks him in and smooths back his hair.

Grimory leans his head back and smiles, closing his eyes. _Ana never does this for me._ "One could get used to this," he hums, opening an eye slightly to grin up at her.

Alisbeth curls up and stares at the side of Grimory's face as she finishes humming. "Sleep, now, baby," she whispers.

Grimory closes his eye again and sighs deeply through his nose. He ignores her motherly cooing and allows silence to fill the tent once more.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Koltira turns his attention to Anarchaia. "So, what's it like traveling with him? Usually. When two strangers don't come along and stir the pot." He laughs.

The mage gives one last glance around the camp, curious as to where Alisbeth may have gone and worrying over her ability to get back. She turns back to Koltira. "I guess it's like…having a big dog with you all the time." A smile crosses her dark teal lips. "He barks a lot and whines when he's hungry but people really don't mess with you when he's around."

"Is he just as intelligent?" he asks with a sly smirk.

She chuckles, covering her mouth with her fingertips to lessen the noise. "In some ways. A dog is a genius when it comes to chasing sticks, taking naps, hunting… He may be mostly muscle but he's not necessarily an idiot."

Koltira stares over at her. "Did you just say that dogs are geniuses at chasing sticks while comparing the two? Are you saying he's good at playing fetch?"

She meets his gaze, her smile widening. "Mm-hmm. Runs on all fours and everything." A beat passes before her shoulders shake and she bursts out in laughter, again covering her mouth.

Koltira's laughter rumbles through his chest. "I honestly can't imagine why he treats you the way he has been. You're very good company." He pats her shoulder.

Anarchaia flushes and sobers, but her smile remains. She gives a small chuckle. "He thinks I'm a nerd." Her fingers pick idly at the seams of her gloves. "And that's really too kind. You're good company, too."

Koltira cringes a little. "I'm only good company because I can _fake_ being good company, at least. Ali doesn't like it when I—what was the word—oh, _mope_."

Anarchaia uses her fingers to quote. "'Moping' is a legitimate coping mechanism. Besides," she gives Koltira a weak punch to the upper arm, "I think you're pretty fun."

He feigns a flinch. "Oh, violence, now? Are you looking to start something I'll have to finish?" He gives a joking grin.

Anarchaia recoils and wraps her arms around herself in a defensive manner. "Violence?" she responds in an aristocratic tone, putting her nose in the air. "I'm but a fragile lady, good sir. It'd _hardly_ be a fair fight."

"You're entirely right," Koltira says. "I wouldn't stand a chance."

"Oh please," she scoffs. "You could easily take me in a fight. I'm what? Seven stone? _Maybe_ eight?"

He eyes her figure. "Maybe, but how much fire do you hide inside that tiny body?"

Anarchaia laughs. "I was only talking about a fair fight. No magic." She smiles daringly. "But if you think you can take the heat…"

Koltira laughs. "Well, I can't really handle too much heat, I'll admit that. But I don't feel right about trapping you in a physical-only fight."

"I don't think I'd have the audacity to fight you anyway," the mage titters, grasping each knee in each palm and leaning back. She lowers her voice. "What with the undead controlling and all."

Koltira raises his eyebrows. "Anything reanimated, yes. We—some of us—raise corpses. Ghouls, really. I prefer not to."

"Oh! _Phew._  Well, then." She wipes away a fake bead of sweat from her forehead. "Still, though." The mage gives a wide grin. "I don't fight nice guys."

Koltira scoffs. "There you go again with that _nice guy_ nonsense. I really don't know where you're getting it."

Anarchaia leans forward to put an elbow on a knee and squishes her cheek into her knuckles. "Because you're a nice guy," she whispers in an attempt to get a rise out of him.

"Now look here, _missy_ ," Koltira goes to jab her sternum, pauses, and instead pokes her shoulder, "I may seem nice, but that's only to you. And Ali."

"Mmhm. Okay. Whatever you say," she says tauntingly, rubbing her shoulder where he'd poked her. "I bet you pet kittens when no one's looking."

Koltira glares at her. "What kind of a monster doesn't pet a kitten when they see it?"

The image of Koltira, pale skin, bound in steel plate, bending down to pet a small, fuzzy kitten passes through her mind and Anarchaia puts her fingers over her lips to hide her grin. "Awww." She chuckles. "Fair point, Mr. _Death Knight_."

Koltira narrows his eyes at her. "And I suppose _you_ would walk right past a kitten without petting it? What do you have against kittens?"

"Oh, trust me, I have nothing against kittens. Petting one wouldn't do much for me anymore, however." Anarchaia gives a reassuring grin at his expression. "I'm just teasing you, Kolt."

Koltira tries to remain composed. "Have you tried…rubbing your cheeks on one?"

The mage's smile turns sad and she looks away. "Animals…don't really like me." She clears her throat. "Anymore."

Koltira frowns. "I haven't even tried since…But I suppose they'd likely hate me, too." He cracks a silly smile. "Let's go find one and see how long it takes for it to scratch my face off."

Anarchaia returns to chortling. "Your face is fine as-is. No need to go marring it." She rests her temple against her knees, face turned toward him, and gestures to the tent with a thumb. "Plus, we already know how well you get along with dogs."

Koltira keeps his composure for a moment before bursting forth with laughter. "Oh, Gods, Ana. "

She watches him as he laughs, then inhales to say something. She bites her lip instead and turns her head to the fire, opting for something else to say. "What was your wedding like, if you don't mind my asking?"

Koltira catches the hesitation. "Are you sure that's what you actually wanted to ask?"

The mage looks in his direction from the corner of her eye. "It wasn't a question. Just a thought I'd deemed appropriate to keep to myself."

Koltira presses his tongue into his cheek. "I answer your question and you have to tell me. Deal?"

A hesitant smile passes over her lips. "It won't be very interesting to you, but if the curiosity is too much to bear I suppose I can't bring myself to let you suffer. So, sure. Deal."

Koltira rolls his eyes. "Oh, no, no. If you don't want to tell me that's completely fine by me. I just thought we were having a nice conversation out here."

She lifts her head and squishes her cheeks with her palms, elbows on her knees. With puffed out lips, Anarchaia responds "I wasn't implying that I don't want to tell you. I was just saying that it wasn't interesting to anyone but myself. My question was much more interesting and conversation-worthy. "

"Fine. Alisbeth convinced Tirion to set aside a tent at the Argent Crusade. I got a few hours' relief from duty aboard Orgrim's Hammer to go meet her there. Tirion married us in secret. The only other person there was Thassarian. That old dress she's so fond of, the silk one…she wore that. I didn't have time to change." He laughs at the memory. "It was nice. Quiet." He sighs and stares at Anarchaia. "Okay, your turn."

She smiles, resting her face in a palm. "That's still really romantic—secret or not. It's very cute that she holds onto the dress. It's clear in her eyes how much she cherishes it." Anarchaia turns back to the fire, extending both arms toward it and fiddling with her fingers. "And I was just thinking about how the only other person who laughs at my jokes is Master… Then I realized that the reason for that is I don't leave the Hall much. Then _that_ made me realize how much everyone there hates me." She sighs but continues to smile.

"They only hate you out of jealousy. _Or_ they don't hate you, they just don't know you. I really can't imagine someone hating you for any reasons other than those." Koltira smiles kindly.

"They think I'm still a child." Her smile fades. "I know some of them are jealous—about a position I was offered and didn't want to begin with—but my superiors…" Anarchaia shakes her head. "It's not important, much less fun to talk about. Thanks for your kindness." She returns the endearing grin.

Koltira furrows his brow. "And how old _are_ you?"

Anarchaia blinks and looks over to him. "As in _now_? I'm forty."

He furrows his brow. "Then I don't understand why they treat you like a child. You're plenty seasoned enough to be counted as a strong woman." He shrugs.

"Well I was nineteen when I…" She clears her throat. "So I guess I never grew up. How old are you, by the way? You seem fairly young."

"Barely a young woman. I'm sorry.” He regards her with a smile. “I was two-hundred and forty when I died. I haven't bothered to count the years since."

"Evil has no agenda," Anarchaia chuckles. "And you _were_ fairly young. I'm sorry as well." She gives him a questioning grin. "You don't still celebrate your birthday?"

Koltira shakes his head. "I've spent most of my time since death without the option to. Before you ask, no, I don't miss celebrating."

The mage purses her lips and chews on the inside of her cheek. "If I ever find out when it is, I'm throwing you a party."

Koltira's ears pull back. "Please don't. I'm not a party person. Ali is, but I am not."

Anarchaia gives him a pout. "Aw, why not? Do you not like being the center of attention?"

"It's not about being the center of attention, it's about parties in general. I just…don't like them." He shrugs and avoids looking at her pout.

"What a shame. By the way you handle your liquor I figured you'd be fun at parties." She inspects the toe of a boot and flicks a bit of wet grass from it. "Though I wouldn't know. You could be a mean drunk." She laughs.

He joins in her laughter. "It's been a while since I've had enough to get drunk. Faltora and I were…fun, I suppose. He liked to pull stupid pranks and, damn if I didn't let him drag me along. What about you? What sort of drunk is our reserved little mage?"

Her grin grows wide and hesitant. "Well…let's just say I'm not allowed in the Hall tavern anymore. Heh."

Koltira smiles deviously. "Sounds like my brother would have liked you."

The mage chuckles. "He sounds like a stand-up guy, then. I'm sure he was very charming, just like his brother."

Koltira laughs outright. "Faltora? No. No, no. He was painfully shy and very quiet. So who do you think got the blame for all those pranks?" He chuckles and rubs his hands together as though fighting off the cold. "I let them think that. Took his punishments for him."

" _Shy and quiet_ doesn't necessarily mean _not charming_ ," she says with a smile. "And that's very selfless of you. You must have loved him very much. Never had any siblings myself. Unless you count my cat."

"Oh, so you _would_ stop to pet kittens." He smiles.

"This was before…everything. And he's dead now. He'd probably run away from me if he were still around. Heh." She throws more grass into the fire. "I wouldn't blame him."

"I stand by what I said. And please, stop calling me charming. I'm really not."

Her pearly teeth poke out from between her lips. "Does it bother you? You don't like being complimented?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "It's…weird."

Anarchaia furrows her brow but continues to smile. "All right, sorry. I'll stop being so nice." She leans back to lie in the still-damp grass, hands cradling the back of her head. "The stars are so clear out here. I suppose that's one upside to being outside the city."

Koltira laughs. "You can't stop being nice, Ana, but I appreciate the sentiment." He tosses a stick at the fire. The moisture inside hisses. He looks up at the stars. "They are nice, aren't they?"

Anarchaia sniffles quietly and hums in agreement. She reaches up to pull her mask back over her lips and chin. "Ali's been gone a long time," she muses. "Do you think she's okay?"

Koltira straightens and looks around the clearing. He stands to circle in place. "I'm sure _she_ is fine…" He steps to the larger tent and looks inside. "Ali…?" He turns to Anarchaia. "She's not here."

Anarchaia watches him search, then sits up. "Where could she have gone?" She stands, brushing the wet grass from the back of her clothes. "I'll wake Grim. He can fly up and look."

Koltira nods. "On the bright side, her axe is still here. As is Byfrost. No armor or weapons is good."

"I suppose that's a good sign." The mage steps around the fire to Grimory's tent and gently pushes the flap away with a back of a hand. "O-Oh," she mumbles upon seeing Alisbeth curled up beside Grimory's sleeping form.

Alisbeth turns her head and sits up, placing her finger to her lips. "Shh. The baby is sleeping."

"Sorry," she whispers and gives an awkward wave, backing away. "Just…wondering where you were."

"Is she in there?" Koltira asks. "Are they…? Dammit." He rubs his palms down his face.

Anarchaia can't help but titter quietly. "No, they're not." She lets the flap fall back into place. "No worries. He's asleep and she's…watching him, I guess."

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. "Watching him? Well…I suppose that's fine, then." He sighs up at the night sky. "You'd think I would be better at knowing when the sun will rise." He shrugs and sits back by the fire, staring into it as thoughts swirl in his eyes.

"Heh. The nights seem interminable the longer you're awake, don't they?" Anarchaia lowers to her knees bedside the fire as well, holding her palms out to be warmed. "I know Ali doesn't…kinda, but do you miss sleep?"

He furrows his brow. "Ali is cryptic, isn't she? She actually misses sleep a great deal. I don't. I'm fine remaining awake and alert at all times. Someone has to. What about you?"

"She certainly is. I've told her about the spells and tinctures but she seemed opposed to the idea." Anarchaia smiles beneath her mask. "I sleep every once in a great while—years, usually. Sometimes for days, depending on the reason. I think I've come to the consensus that I don't enjoy it, though." She fiddles with her fingers in her lap. "The nightmares. Heh."

Koltira nods in understanding. "I don't know that I'd want to have the nightmares I know wait for me in sleep." He furrows his brow. "Alisbeth turned them down because we're not allowed to sleep. She doesn't want to get in trouble. It's one of the few things we kept after separating from the Lich King, the requirement that we do not sleep." He leans back on his elbows and looks up at the stars, picking out constellations he knows and tracing them with his gaze.

"So, sort of an act of defiance, then? I dig it."

Koltira shrugs. "Maybe."

Anarchaia lifts her palms back to the flickering flames and twitches her fingers. The fire dances and swells. She sighs and smiles. "I really miss being alive, though," she mutters quietly so her voice doesn't travel to the tent only feet behind her. "Being warm."

He silently observes her figure in the dancing firelight. Knowing there is nothing he can say to her that would make any sort of difference, he sighs and sets a palm between her shoulder blades and gives a comforting rub.

The mage goes rigid for a brief moment, not having expected the sudden contact, and the fire regresses to its original size. She smiles when she relaxes and returns to manipulating the fire. Her lips part to thank him, but she, again, decides against speaking and closes them. The flames curl around each other, forming themselves into various shapes: a dragon with wings outstretched, a satyr, an owl with large, feathery horns, a couple in expensive clothing dancing.

Koltira leans back, threading his fingers together behind his head. "Very creative."

"You wanna try?" she jokes, molding the flames into a ripply orange version of his face and hair, cinders flying from the edges. "It's easy."

"The only thing I can do would ruin the fire," he says, wrinkling his nose at the image of himself.

"Do you make ice sculptures?" She laughs. The fire forms a swan flapping its wings excitedly.

Koltira throws out his hand, sending a blast of freezing air and sleet across the wet ground. It solidifies as a muddy slope filled with leaves and dead grass. "If you can call that a sculpture, sure."

The quill and parchment make a reappearance. "Fascinating." Anarchaia turns to him with excitement, clapping her hands together once and bouncing. "What else can you do?"

Koltira narrows one eye. "Not much outside of combat abilities, really. Though this one is useful." He snaps his fingers and the entire camp becomes trapped within a transparent purple dome. "I'm one of the few who still knows how to use this." He grins.

Anarchaia glances about the dome, eyes bright with interest. The quill scribbles furiously. "I've read about death knight powers but have only seen a few in person."

"I'm sure this one will entertain you." Koltira turns a translucent blue and raises a foot off the ground while still lying down. After several seconds he drops back down with a grunt.

She turns to watch Koltira hover and chortles when he falls.

"What about you? Any other party tricks?"

"The only useful party trick I know is conjuring alcohol." She laughs. "Otherwise this is a favorite of mine." She stands and waves a hand parallel to the ground. A puddle studded with small shards of ice grows between the blades of grass. Anarchaia turns to Koltira and puts a finger to her lips. A moment later she fades into nothingness with a devious giggle.

A large mass of ice grows from the puddle. A frozen water elemental pulls himself from the ground and shakes off the excess water, which causes the fire to hiss. Its one, icy eye glances around the camp, finally coming to rest on Koltira. "Did you…?" it rumbles in a low, gravelly voice coming from the depths of its torso. It then notices the quill and parchment and appears to grow irritated. "Where is she?"

Koltira blinks at the elemental. "Umm…I don't know."

"I'm so sick of—" The elemental flinches as a large shard of ice crashes against the back of his cranium. Growling in frustration, he spins to blast a thick stream of water in the direction it'd come from.

Anarchaia is pummeled in the face by the water. It knocks her off her feet and out of her invisibility. She laughs despite being face-down in the now mud. "You fall for it every time!"

"And you eat dirt every time, _Apprentice_ Anarchaia," the elemental sneers, gliding over to her on an endless stream of gushing water. It plucks the mage from the wet earth and holds her by her throat. "Stop calling me."

Anarchaia laughs more despite being throttled. "Oh come on, Flayke. Get a sense of humor," she rasps.

" _Stop calling me_ ," Flayke booms, rapidly reducing to a puddle, which soon after evaporates, dropping Anarchaia on her hind end to chuckle in the mud.

Koltira blinks in confusion. "Y-Your, um, 'friend' doesn't seem to like you."

Anarchaia stands and looks down at herself, still grinning. "No, he doesn't." She claps her hands together and is instantly surrounded in a vortex of flame, drying her clothes and mask. She frowns when she glances down at herself again only to find that, instead of washing away, the dirt has crusted to her pants and shirt. "Well shit," she mumbles, attempting to brush herself off. "I can do other things, too. None quite as amusing."

"Are we near any water so you can wash off?" He chuckles at the dirt covering her.

She brushes the dry mud from her eyes then hisses when doing so makes things worse. "I didn't check, sadly." The mage blindly trots to the tree line, her back to the camp. When in the safety of the shadows, the pulls off her mask and examines it. "I'm going to have to go find some. What an asshole. I guess I deserve it, though." She gives an airy chuckle and glances back at him over her shoulder, eyes shrouded in hair. "I assume you'll be okay on your own?"

Koltira settles himself in a comfortable position. "Unless you need an escort. Otherwise, enjoy your bath."

She shrugs. "I shouldn't need one, but if I'm not back in an hour feel free to assume the worst." Anarchaia gives a curt wave and trudges off into the trees.


	16. Chapter 16

As noted, the mage reappears an hour or so later—not by means of coming back through the trees but in a spiral of white light. “So, I couldn’t find any water,” she says with a smile. “Had to run home instead. Bad news if you guys want a bath, though.” She hugs herself and sighs dreamily. “Hot water without the use of magic is something I’ll never take for granted.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow and chuckles. “Well I’m glad _someone_ can enjoy the comforts of home while the rest of us go without. I kept the fire going,” he announces, then looks at the small flames within the pit of ash and embers. “Mostly.”

She shrugs and smiles apologetically. “Sorry. Mages only.” Her attention falls to the dying fire. “Oh! I’m sorry! I should have gotten more tinder before I’d left.” The fire doubles in size, feeding off what little fuel it has left. “I’ll get more. Enough until morning, at least.” Anarchaia glances over her shoulder at Koltira. “Would you like to assist, or were you enjoying your time without me?” She chuckles.

He shrugs. “I’m fine either way. Ali seems perfectly content in there,” he jerks his thumb at the smaller tent, “and I’ve nothing else to do but sit. So if you’d like the company, I can assist you.”

She pouts. “I asked you first, Mr. Indecisive. But if you’d like the compliment, I wouldn’t mind having you around. It’s been fun thus far.” Not waiting for a response, Anarchaia ducks into the shadows of the pine trees.

Koltira chuckles and scrambles to his feet to trot after the mage. “Fun, huh? Fun compared to what?” He grimaces and pulls foliage and mud from his white hair.

“Compared to my normal company.” Anarchaia reaches up to grab a dead branch, then gives up shortly after realizing she cannot reach, deeming it not worth the mana. “I’m sure you figured that out already…by the way _you_ get along with my normal company.”

Koltira reaches up to easily grab the branch, then holds it out for the mage. “Being strung up by my thumbs for a month sounds more fun than your normal company. Really, I don’t know how you handle it.” Koltira sighs at himself. “I will admit, I haven’t given him a fair chance, since he and Ali…and apparently you…” He clears his throat and reaches over her head for another branch he knows she can’t reach.

Anarchaia accepts the branch and decides simply to carry it rather than use magic. She flushes and busies herself with a bush, her back to him. “He’s really a nice guy,” she insists, flustered. “He acts differently when we’re alone.” More twigs and foliage join the branch in her arms. “…What has he told you?” She swallows, afraid of the answer. “S-So I know how angry to be. Heh.”

He stares at his feet, then trudges past Anarchaia to grab more branches she can’t reach. “You don’t want to know the things he said.” He clenches his jaw and avoids looking at her, instead focusing on finding items that will burn.

Her head jerks to face him, brow furrowed in disbelief. She blinks a few times and shakes her head. “What did he say?” she asks in a hushed tone, clutching the debris tightly in her arms. “Was it bad?” Her eyes widen and she turns to face Koltira’s back. “This is what you were fighting about.”

“I just wanted him to stop. I wasn’t trying to kill him.” Koltira hangs his head, then stoops for a few twigs.

Anarchaia watches for a moment, thinking, then turns away again. Humiliation fills her face and chest and she hugs the twigs to her breast. “So it _was_ bad.” She scoffs, tears stinging her good eye. “That jerk. And to think I trusted him.” Her jaw tightens. “I’m such a fool.”

Guilt fills Koltira and he goes to her, setting a hand on her shoulder. “I wasn’t without dishonor, myself. I nearly revealed your secret just trying to…get a reaction? I really have no idea… Make him jealous that you’d shared that with me? I’m sorry for my own actions. If it helps at all he didn’t say anything _bad_ about you, per se. It was just… He was vile about it.”

A hurt scowl creeps across her lips and she looks at him. She uses the fabric of her mask to wipe the wetness from her left eye. “Thanks,” she mumbles after a long moment. “For not saying anything. And I can’t condone your actions but at least your intentions were… _better_ …than his.” She sniffles and inhales, taking any kindling from him and bunching it with the rest.

Koltira flinches. “I don’t think they were better. I should’ve been better than that.” He holds out his arms. “Please, let me carry that for you.”

Anarchaia hugs the bundle to her chest again. “I can carry them.” The seething in her heart boils over and she turns away again, running through all the inappropriate things Grimory could have possibly said about her to a man they’d just met. “Thank you for being honest,” she mutters and takes a step back toward camp.

Koltira follows behind the mage feeling helpless. _I shouldn’t have said anything._ He opens his mouth and closes it several times to apologize more and make sure she’s truly okay. But in the end he says nothing and just follows her back to the camp.

When back, Anarchaia tosses the tinder into the fire and the flames burst forth anew. She stops to glare at the tent across from her, pondering all the things she can do while her fists tremble at her sides. She eventually sobers, realizing her own fault in the matter, and sits by the fire again. Rubbing at her damp cheek with the back of a wrist, she sighs. “He’s lucky I don’t burn it down.”

Koltira drops down beside her. After a moment’s hesitation, he wraps a comforting arm around her shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze. “I think he only said it because…well, he likes you. And I think he’s being…territorial.” He drops his arm and shifts awkwardly, putting his hands to the fire, though the cold doesn’t bother him.

“Any affection he has for me is ill-founded,” she snaps, scowling into the fire. “If he knew what I really look like he’d change his mind.” Anarchaia clenches her fists in her lap. She inhales sharply to say something else, something spiteful. Instead, at the peak of her anger, she conjures an unmarked bottle in the space beside her while simultaneously pushing up her mask. “You know what? Fuck him. There. I said it.” She snatches it from the air, presses the opening to her lips, and tilts the bottom to the stars.

Koltira reaches to set his hand on hers, intending to urge the bottle back down. But he stops and retracts his hand before touching her. “Ana, I…” He sighs, realizing he has nothing he can say to make it better or at least take away the sting. So instead he turns to tossing pine needles into the fire one at a time.

When she takes the bottle from her lips she hisses at the burn. “You don’t need to make me feel better, Koltira.” She gives him a grin while wiping at her lips. She then offers the half-empty bottle as a sign of gratitude. “But you’re sweet for trying.”

He takes the bottle and purses his lips. “One of these days I’m going to do something that isn’t so kind and you’ll be eating those words you keep flinging at me.”

“Yeah, right. That’ll be the day I become the next Guardian.”

He tips the bottle back, drinking half of what’s left before stopping to cough and hand it back to her. “What is that? Did you conjure pure acid?”

She laughs and takes the bottle back. “It’s the unlabeled bottle. It changes whenever it’s emptied.” The mage downs another sip and cringes, chuckling through the pain. “This, however, tastes like pure grain. Heh.” A smirk crosses her lips. “Too much for you?”

Koltira laughs. “It’s just been a long time since something has actually burned going down.” He holds out his hand, accepting the challenge she probably wasn’t issuing.

Anarchaia sizes him up out the corner of her eye and takes another sip before handing it back. Her smile widens. “Drink the rest, then.”

He sneers at the bottle. “If I die, burn my body.” He gives her a wink and tilts the rest down his throat. He hands the empty bottle back, his laugh bordering on a cough. “Smooth as necrotic slime.”

The mage cringes again as she watches him drink the rest. “Okay, wow. I’m impressed.” She sends the empty away and conjures another bottle, this time labeled. The cork pops and flies directly into the fire. Anarchaia laughs. “This isn’t as—” she stifles a hiccup, “—strong.” She takes a drink and glances at the tent again as though looking for another reason to down half the bottle again. “What did he tell you?” she asks after swallowing, offering the bottle as if it were payment for the information.

“I’m…really not sure I want to repeat it.” His skin flushes hot from the drink, or Grimory’s descriptions of her, or both. “It really was the crudest compliment he could have given you.” He keeps his eyes trained on the fire, feeling ashamed, even though they weren’t his words.

Anarchaia hesitates and shrugs as if she no longer cares. “At least it was a compliment…I guess.” She hides the still burning rage inside her with a wide smile. “All right. No more sads. Fun and forgets, now.” She pushes the bottle against his hand. “ _Fun and forgeeets_ ,” she chants not unlike a cultist.

Koltira chuckles and takes the bottle, taking a few long pulls before holding it out for her. “Alright. Fine by me. Let’s have some fun. What would you like to do for fun?”

Anarchaia takes the bottle back and thinks while drinking. She tries to speak at the tail end of her swallowing and chokes. “Truth or dare.” She coughs, a hand between her breasts as though that will help.

Koltira smirks. “Alright, mage. I’ll play.”

“I’ll go first, then.” She holds out the bottle. “And I’ll play it safe. Truth.”

Koltira takes the bottle, sloshing some into his mouth and swirling it with his tongue as he thinks. “I suppose I’ll start with questions that won’t get me punched.” He laughs. “Do you ever wish you…” he cranes his neck to the tent, then whispers in Anarchaia’s ear, “Do you ever wish you were still living?” The moment he finishes the question, he feels stupid for asking. _Of course she would rather have not died!_ He swallows a few large mouthfuls and holds the bottle out for her to take.

Anarchaia’s grin subsides some but remains steady. “You know… There isn’t a day that goes by where it doesn’t cross my mind.” She takes the bottle and drinks without letting the liquor touch her tongue. “But ultimately…no.” She perks, tilting her head and chuckling. “Your turn!”

“Arh.” He growls. “I guess I’ll play it safe, too. Truth. Hit me.”

Anarchaia taps her chin and hands the booze back. “Hm…” She thinks for a long moment. “If you could be a woman for one day, what would you do?”

Koltira laughs outright. “Oh, gods. Oh.” He takes a heavy swig. “I’d have a lesbian rendezvous with Alisbeth. It’s on her bucket list.” His tongue loose with drink, he continues. “Most men will follow a beautiful woman into a room no questions asked. But women… They tend to be a little more wary, especially… Well, you know.” He takes a final drink and holds it out for her.

“Scandalous.” She takes the bottle back, listening intently. Her head tilts away and her smile grows curious. “I’m sure I don’t. Pray tell what you mean.” Anarchaia brings the lip of the bottle to her own but doesn’t drink, awaiting his explanation.

“Ah, ah. I believe you’ll have to wait until my turn comes up again.” He chews on his bottom lip. “Pick your poison, doll.”

The mage scowls. “Dirty trick, Mr. Nice Guy.” She drinks and takes a moment to swallow. “Truth again, then.”

“Darkest fantasy,” he says after a pause.

Anarchaia lifts her eyebrows and surrenders the bottle once more. “You didn’t say what kind.” She smiles. “Don’t tell Master…but I’ve always wanted to torture my murderers if they were still alive. Slowly. Make them swallow cinders. Pull off their nails.” Her smile disappears. “Make them eat their own eyeballs.”

Koltira raises his eyebrows and takes a huge drink. “Okay. Well. Um… Seems you have more in common with Ali than I’d have ever thought. But she’ll act on it when she finds them.” He takes another drink. “I suppose I’ll go truth again.” He smirks and hands her the bottle.

Her smile returns and she rolls the bottle in her palms. “If you could take up the helm of the Lich King, and rule as you please, would you do it?” She drinks and watches his reaction.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Not for all the wealth in Azeroth. Your turn.”

The mage gives a hum of surprise and hands over the small amount of alcohol left. “Oh, I forgot to asssssk,” she hisses and curses, pointing a finger in his face. “Next truth. Don’t distract me. Anyway—dare.”

Koltira thinks hard, not prepared for a dare. He finishes the bottle. “I dare you to make a giant Khadgar in the fire.”

Anarchaia scoffs and the fire in the pit explodes upwards, swirling and crackling until finally coming to settle as a one-story-tall replica of her teacher. After a moment the flames subside back into the quiet campfire it had been before. “Done. Go.”

Koltira shakes his head. “Impressive. I…should have gone bigger.” He eyes her, thinking what to choose. “I’ll go with…”

She leans forward. “ _Hmmmmm?_ ” She holds out her hand for the empty bottle.

 “Dare.” He gives her a wicked smile and hands the bottle over.

Anarchaia returns his devilish grin. “Oh. Oh.” The empty bottle is replaced by a full one of similar grade. “Walk around the fire.” The cork shoots into the dark of the forest. “On your hands.”

Koltira purses his lips. “You feed me drinks and then you ask me to do hand stands.” He shakes his head. After a moment he pulls his hair back and knots the mass around itself. “Are you ready for this shit?” He laughs. He stands and bends to his hands, his shirt falling to his chin. He makes his round, flipping back to his feet in front of Anarchaia. He gives a theatrical bow and unties his hair. “Does it please the lady?”

Anarchaia chuckles and applauds after sticking the bottle between her legs. She conjures a single rose, and tosses it as his torso. “It does! Bravo! Color me impressed.” She takes a swig and holds out the bottle like a reward. “Dare as well. Not something boring this time, please.”

Koltira thinks as he drinks and observes the mage. Suddenly he leans over and puts his elbow on his thigh, his hand up and palm open. “I dare you to arm wrestle me.”

Anarchaia looks from his hand to his face a few times, silent. “ _Pffffthahaha!_ You’re kidding, right?” she slurs. “You’d snap my arm off.”

He shrugs. “You said not boring. Is getting your arm snapped off boring? I mean, if you’re scared, you can back out and… What’s the penalty?”

She eyes him warily and turns to face him, elbow also on her knee. “I’m going to lose with utmost certainty, so making me chose the penalty is a pretty…charming thing to do.”

He smiles charmingly. “Why do I feel you’re using that word facetiously?” He takes her hand with his left and gently presses it into his right palm.

“Because I’m definitely not.”

 “Ready? Go.” He releases her hand and waits.

She digs her gloved fingers into the back of his hand and narrows her eyes. She flinches at the word _go_ but stops, her slowed reflexes causing her to catch on. She smiles and hiccups into the back of her free hand. “You have to try, at least! Otherwise I’ll just assume you just wanted to hold my hand.” She sniggers.

He shrugs his innocence. “Nothing wrong with holding a pretty lady’s hand. But, no, that’s not the reason.” He presses her hand against his with his left. “I’ll try when you start trying. Come on, little miss, impress me.” He takes a swig from the bottle then sets it on the ground in front of her.

Anarchaia purses her lips. “Fine,” she chirps and pushes against his palm with all her might, glaring up into his eyes with cold, drunken determination.

Koltira narrows his eyes. “Are you trying yet?”

Anarchaia gives a short noise, offended. She pushes harder—or as much harder as she possibly can—and growls with the effort. When that doesn’t work, she clasps her free hand around his right and pulls, whimpering comically.

“Oh!” Koltira grabs her other hand and pries it away. “That’s cheating. Naughty, naughty.” He reaches across to tap her nose.

The mage flinches and pouts. “But I can’t do iiiiit,” she whines, instead waving both their hands back and forth instead of trying.

The death knight laughs. “Watching you is painful. Let me spare you.” With no effort he pushes her arm down and releases her hand. He takes a drink from the bottle, then sets it back down. “I choose truth.”

The mage rubs at her wrist dramatically and rolls it, causing the aging bones inside to pop. She inhales, scooping up the bottle, then jumps in realization. “Oh, oh! The thing earlier. About women being cautious or some shit. Especially…blank.” She drinks and swallows quickly so she can keep talking. “What did you mean?”

Koltira shrugs it off. “Come on, Ana, you can’t say after just a few drinks you’d follow her anywhere. Women are more sensible. It’s just a fact. Pretty girl goes to a man in a bar…doesn’t matter what sort of baggage she carries, a man will follow the promise of a little action.” Koltira reaches up to set his cold fingers on his ears, realizing how quickly the liquor had caught up with him.

Anarchaia _oh_ s and nods. “I get you. I worked in a tavern for three years before I died. Saw that sort of thing all the time.” She clears her throat and closes her eyes, swaying in place for a moment. “Men, though. Am I right? Heh.” She hesitates before taking another drink and relinquishing the bottle. “All right truth, then. Sssssince you don’t play nice with dares.”

“You wanted a challenge.” He chuckles. “Okay, okay. If _you_ were a man for a day, what would you do?”

The mage brings her thumb to her lower lip and rests it there. “Fuck everything.” She waits for a long moment, staring humorlessly at the man before her. When she can no longer hold back, she grins and laughs loudly, leaning back on her palms. “No, no, in all seriousness, I’d probably not do much— _hic!_ — differently. Perhaps do my best to make Grim and Master as uncomfortable as possible.”

He shrugs. “Honestly, that’s a good idea, though. Experiencing the other side of the intimacy.” He takes a deep breath. “I suppose it’s my turn. What the hell. Dare.”

Anarchaia snorts and shakes her head. She conjures a small bottle filled with red liquid. “You like hot sauce?” she asks with a devious smirk. “I hope so.” She offers the bottle. “One drink.”

“Where’s the challenge?” He takes the bottle and stares at it. “What is this?”

“Just drink it,” she whispers.

Koltira frowns. “Why do I have the feeling I might hate you after this?” He obediently takes a swig.

Anarchaia watches intently, smile unwavering. “Because you will.”


	17. Chapter 17

He waits a moment, a skeptical expression on his face. “I really don’t think this…” He scowls, then his eyebrows raise in surprise and pain. “What is this? It’s literally burning me!” He takes the liquor bottle from Anarchaia and chugs it, seeking relief.

The mage howls with laughter, quickly conjuring a cup of cold milk and extending it. “It’s a special sauce made from peppers in Pandaria! And that liquor is only going to make it worse. Drink this.” She covers her mouth to hide her smile. “I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t resist!”

Koltira sneers at the milk, but takes a sip. “It feels like you hate me. I’m pretty sure you hate me.” He continues to sip the milk to dull the pain, even though it is a temporary relief. “I’m not sure I want to play with you anymore,” he says on a laugh.

She chuckles and gives Koltira’s shoulder a playful shove. “I don’t hate you! What fun is Truth or Dare without any pain?”

“You’re going to dare me to my death, I just know it.”

The mage outright laughs at his final comment. “Again? You seem pretty resilient to me.” She takes up the hot sauce bottle and sends it away. “I’ll pick truth, then, since I sense you’re feeling vengeful.”

“Mmm,” he grunts and thinks. “I’m not sure any truth you tell me could make up for _that_. But…” He taps his index finger to his lips. “Tell me what it was like…with Grim. Best ever or biggest regret?”

Anarchaia flushes and looks away, a palm on her warm cheek. “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it…them… _mistakes_.” She clears her throat and hiccups simultaneously. “But not the best ever, either. Maybe physically, but…there was no love in it. Just…lust. You’re a man, I’m sure you understand.” She reaches for the bottle to inspect what’s left.

Koltira shrugs. “I was never one for emotionless fucking. Sure, I had a few short-lived flings, but never the…” He waves his hand around, indicating the others as he thinks. “I don’t know. Just for the sake of doing it, I suppose. The real fun is in the chase.” He clears his throat and turns to the fire. “Since I don’t fancy more blisters on my tongue, I’ll go with truth.”

The mage takes a long, thoughtful drink, humming a laugh as she does so. “How many?” she asks as she pulls the bottle away and covers her mouth with the back of her wrist as she swallows.

He chuckles. “If you’re hoping for an impressive number, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Seven, including Alisbeth.” He holds out his hand for the liquor. “Your turn.” He ignores his tongue growing heavier in his mouth and tries to appear more sober than he’s coming to realize he is.

“I didn’t have any precon— _hic!_ —ceptions.” Anarchaia _hmm_ s as she hands over the liquor. Deciding this is more of a drunken, get-to-know-you session than anything, she says “Truth. At least until you forget about the hot sauce.” She smiles, eyeing his behavior to gauge his level of intoxication.

He smacks his lips and narrows his eyes at her. “How do you _really_ feel about Ali and me. Individually. Like, separate…and things.” Koltira’s eyes slide sideways as he takes a good sized swig. _Real smooth, jackass._

Anarchaia turns her head fully to look at him, not having expected the question. “U-Uhh… Well, you’re both very cute.” She reaches over to pinch his cheek and chortle. “I like Ali for her…strange way of caring. She’s unpredictable, and while it’s stressful I kind of thrive on that. She seems like a good person to have around in a fight. And a loyal friend.” She leans back on her hands and grins at him. “And you…I feel like we get along better than two people who’ve just met one another normally would. You’re level headed but still fun to be around and talk with.” She tilts her head and chuckles. “But that’s just my opinion…or the alcohol’s.”

He nods. “I’ll accept it, I suppose.” He groans. “I’m going to regret this. I know I am…” Koltira hangs his head and sighs. “Dare.”

Anarchaia chews on her thoughts for a long moment before suddenly reaching behind herself and grasping the strings tying her shirt together. “Switch shirts with me.”

Koltira laughs. “There is no way I’ll fit into yours, unless you let me wear it as a necklash—necklace.” He clears his throat over the slur and smiles innocently.

“It’s sleeveless and ties in the back. I’ll make it fit.” Anarchaia turns away to unbutton the button at her collar bone. She pulls the garment from her body and covers herself with an arm, shivering at the sudden chill. “You better be taking it off back there.”

Koltira rubs his face. He stares at her bare back for a moment, eyes tracing the line of her spine, then obediently pulls his shirt over his head. “Here.” He tosses his shirt at her, keeping his eyes on the fire.

The mage exchanges the articles and turns away again to throw the shirt over her head. She laughs at the size difference. “Oh, this is _much_ warmer. Here, allow me.” She titters and pulls her own shirt tightly around his torso, then struggles with the ties. She pats him once on the back when she’s finally successful in tying them. “There! Painless, right?”

He sneers down at the shirt. “This…isn’t even a shirt, Ana…”

She laughs. Then, like flipping a switch, turns grave. “Are you questioning my fashion sense?” she responds darkly, as though he’d just threatened to destroy something she loves.

He turns his disgruntled grimace on her. “I’m absolutely questioning why you would wear a tube of cloth with strings on it. This…This is nonsense!” He purses his lips and squeezes his pectorals together. “Does it look better with breasts?”

Anarchaia gasps and leans away from him, palm spread over her chest. “How _dare you_.” She thrusts her nose into the air and folds her arms. “Good luck getting this back, now. Enjoy your new shirt.”

“I would rather go shirtless, dearie. But you dared me to wear--how long am I wearing this?” He investigates the fabric. “This _is_ really soft, I’ll admit that.”

Anarchaia looks over the tear in the shoulder of his shirt. “Until my feelings aren’t hurt anymore,” she responds with an indignant pout, running a finger over the rip to seal it shut. “Or you dare me to trade back. Whichever comes first.”

Koltira grumbles, though his fingers continue to stroke the soft fabric at his stomach. “Well then I dare you to give me my shirt back.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she waggles a finger at him from beneath the long sleeve of his shirt and grins impishly. “I choose t-truth.” She hiccups into the back of the same hand. “And you don’t need to keep mine on but I’m keeping yours. It’s cozy.”

Koltira reaches behind to pull at the threading. “Have you ever been with—dammit! I can’t get it off.” He deflates and glares at the shirt, then sends a pout Anarchaia’s way.

She pauses while watching him, then lifts her eyebrows. “Oh? You wanted help?” A chuckle escapes her and she pulls the tie free in one swift motion. “Better? Now what were you saying?”

He slings the cloth over his shoulder to keep it out of the mud. “Have you ever been with a woman?”

“No, but I’m not opposed to the idea. I’ve seen plenty of attractive women.” Anarchaia, with gloved and sleeved hands, picks up the bottle again to drink, being extra careful not to dribble on the shirt that doesn’t belong to her. “Your turn.”

The death knight smirks at her. “Before I end up in your trousers, I choose truth as well.”

She leans over to look at the thickness of his legs and gives a solemn shake of her head. “Mm. No. You wouldn’t fit.” The mage takes another drink and sets the bottle between them. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else.”

He sighs and looks away, focusing on the fire for a long moment of silence. “I’ve always been very honest with Alisbeth, but I can’t bring myself to speak of what happened in Undercity. I was gone for _four years_ , Ana. So, I’m sorry, but, the only thing I haven’t told anyone is something I can’t bring myself to say. And when I do, Ali will be the first to know.”

Anarchaia turns to give him a reassuring smile. “Oh…right. I’d forgotten.” She rests a hand on his back in an attempt to be comforting. “Sorry. No worries. You get a freebie. Heh.” After a moment she clears her throat. “You can have your shirt back,” she says, grasping the hem.

Koltira purses his lips. “Ana, please don’t give me freebies or…pity…or…just keep treating me as you have. Please. You’re being such a good friend and I just…want it to stay that way.”

She stops and stares at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m…I’m sorry? I will…won’t…” She shakes her head and lowers the hem again. “What is it you want? I can’t not be nice… That would make me a _bad_ friend.”

He sets a hand on hers. “Keep being nice, but don’t let my demons change anything. We were having fun, but my past ruined it. Please, let’s continue.” Koltira gives her a warm smile.

Anarchaia blinks, recovering from the blunder. After a moment she returns the grin, momentarily forgetting about the shirt. “All right. _Your_ darkest fantasy, then.”

Koltira grins devilishly. “Sexual or just twisted?”

She shrugs. “Whichever’s darker?”

He shrugs. “I often fantasize about killing every man who has laid their hands on Alisbeth. Your friend, especially.” The confession doesn’t faze him in the least. “Is the bottle empty?” He asks, pointing at it.

“N-No…” She slowly hands him the bottle, her smile having faded. “Please don’t kill Grim,” she responds quietly. “I know he’s an ass, but…” A beat passes and she chuckles. “ _Ass butt_.”

He chuckles then takes a drink. “I won’t. Ali would be furious if I did. Especially Grimory, I think. He entertains her. She’d never forgive me for taking her play-thing.” He takes another drink, finishing off the bottle, then hands it to Anarchaia. “Looks like we need another. And it’s your turn.”

Instead of sending the bottle away, she tosses it into the fire to watch the glass as it scorches and blackens. She conjures another, this time a bottle of red wine. “Truth,” she says, not yet ready to give up the shirt despite offering to do so only moments before. She takes a small sip of the alcohol as not to spill, barely savoring it.

Koltira chews on his bottom lip as he thinks, then he smiles slyly. “Tell me how you _really_ feel about your pal. The amount of panic you displayed when I mentioned killing him says more than you have. So, what’s the truth?”

Anarchaia purses her lips and sets the wine beside her. “He’s still a good friend to me.” Her jaw clenches and she looks into the fire at the discarded bottle. “He’s cute. And…he cares. A lot.” She hesitates, touching the tips of her fingers together through the sleeves of Koltira’s shirt. “Every time we…you know…he was so worried about offending me.” She smiles at the memories. “I’d be pretty distraught if anything were to happen to him.”

Koltira nods as he processes this. “Just friends, as you said. But what I don’t get is the jealousy. May I?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, taking the bottle and drinking, then sets it back beside the mage. “The absolute _anger_ he had at the idea of you and I hooking up was… Come on. You can’t deny that something deeper could exist. Maybe not _now_ , but…”

Anarchaia turns to him, lips parted slightly as she blinks. “He was angry about that?” She frowns. “Yet he…with Alisbeth.” She scoffs and turns back to the flames, as she takes a drink. “Perhaps on his end. We haven’t known one another long enough for me to…” She swallows a hiccup, “feel that way.”

He shrugs and tosses a casual arm over her shoulders. “Perhaps he’s just territorial, I guess. He can have _you_ , he can have _Ali_ , he can play with you like little dolls and compare your, uh…performances… But gods forbid anyone gets close to you. If he knew you wouldn’t light him on fire, I’m sure he’d piss on your feet to mark you.”

Her scowl darkens. “You’re right. He doesn’t deserve my affection.” She downs another large mouthful and sets the bottle down. “I may as well save it for someone who actually cares about me.”

Without removing his arm from her shoulders he grabs up the bottle with his other hand to take a drink. “Got anyone in mind? Sweet girl like you has to have at least ten, right?” He snorts a laugh, betraying his level of intoxication. “Hell if I was single…”

She flushes and gives an awkward laugh. “N-No. Heh. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend. And that was before.” She sobers some. “And the only person I really like doesn’t feel the same. So the search continues. Heh.”

His smile is kind as he studies her, then turns back to the fire. “You’ve got some time, now. So…one boyfriend. But how many…?”

She blinks. “…‘Partners’? Three. Less impressive than you.” She chuckles.

He feigns insult. “How is seven impressive? I’ve got two hundred years on you, girlie. And I was adventurous in the century before my adulthood. Is that really so wrong?” He smiles and musses up where her hair would be if her mask wasn’t on.

“It’s still more than twice mine. But by averages, I suppose I’m beating you.” She chortles as her head is pat.

“What about Grimory? Do you know his number? Will it make me want to wash the filth from myself until my skin is raw?”

She grimaces. “Yeeeeah… it’s up there. I think he told me something in the seventies?” She shrugs. “But even he doesn’t know.”

Koltira shudders. “That’s very busy. But I mean, if you’re in it for nothing more than the sex…” He shakes his head and takes the bottle to swig from it. “Hey, weren’t we playing a game?”

“Oh! Yes! Truth or dare, Mr. Death Knight?” Anarchaia snatches the bottle from him to drink as well.

He laughs. “I have no idea. Do you have a coin we can flip? Heads truth, tails dare.”

“My belt is in the tent,” she responds. “And I’d really rather not go in there right now. If you’d like I can choose for you.”

He grimaces, closing his eyes and leaning back as he sucks a breath through his teeth. “Tonight is just full of things I end up regretting. Okay. You choose for me.”

“It’s your funeral,” she chuckles. “I dare you to…” Anarchaia bites her lips. “Get on your hands and knees and do your best impression of a dog.” She smirks, bringing her fingers to her mouth to chew on the tip of one.

Koltira gapes for a moment before giving a devilish smile. He gets on his hands and knees and presses his face into Anarchaia’s. “Hi, my name is Grimory. Wanna see my little demon?”

Anarchaia does nothing to contain her laughter. She pushes a palm into Koltira’s cheek and wraps her other arm around her diaphragm. “Oh come on! That was totally uf-haha!-unfair!” She wipes at her good eye, still giggling uncontrollably. “Ugh…hahaha. You win.”

Koltira sits back, a triumphant smile on his face. “What do I win?”

Anarchaia inhales, regaining her composure yet continuing to giggle. “Anything. Name it. It’s yours.” She takes another drink before planting the bottle firmly in the grass.

He scratches his head and thinks. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. Unless _you_ have any good ideas.” He drops back to sitting beside her and takes the bottle, downing a few gulps before returning it to the grass.

The mage taps her chin as she thinks. “Hm. Not in particular. I could do your bidding for a week. Call you _My Liege_. Build your likeness out of ice.” She smiles and shrugs.

He cringes. “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass on that.” He chuckles and nudges her with his elbow. “What would you want if you had won?”

Anarchaia raises her eyebrows, her smile growing coy. She tilts her head. “That’s a curious question. What do _you_ think I’d ask for?”

He shrugs. “More alcohol. Me to apologize to Grimory. Everything you just said I could ask for. I don’t know!”

“Pfft,” she scoffs. “I wouldn’t ask you to apologize to him. It sounds like he had it coming.” She picks up the bottle and examines the inside. “No, I’d just ask for a kiss or something.” Anarchaia eyes him warily, waiting for the reaction she’s looking for.

Koltira coughs and blinks at her. “From _me?_ Or just in general?”

Anarchaia cocks her head. “Mmmmmmaybe?”

He narrows his eyes in confusion. “I’m just going to…” He takes the wine from her hand and swallows several gulps. He hands it back and stares at the fire as he rubs at his nose which has darkened from drink. “So how long, do you think, until sunrise?”

Anarchaia physically flinches the moment she sees her attempt at a joke crash and burn. She grits her teeth in an attempt to make words but fails. _He thought you were serious! What the hell is wrong with you?!_ A small croak escapes her throat and she sighs, giving up on trying to save herself. She casts a glance to the sky. “A couple hours at most.”

_Smooth, jackass._ Koltira sighs. “Ana that came out all wrong and it’s not that I wouldn’t… I mean you’re… I guess I look like an asshole now. I take myself too seriously.” He sets a hand on her shoulder. “Still friends, though, right?”

Anarchaia inhales quickly, waving her hands. “No no no,” she chirps, flustered and embarrassed that he’d caught on. “I-It was a joke. I failed on the execution. I’m not a home-wrecker or something like that. I would never. B-But not that I wouldn’t…either…” She cringes and balls her fists then throws them into her lap. “Yes. Still friends.” She forces a smile. “If not painfully so.”

“Wait, no, I wasn’t implying you’re a home-wrecker! No! I’m just… You know what?” He growls and rubs his palms down his face.

“I didn’t…” Anarchaia stops herself and purses her lips, then pulls her mask back over her face. After a moment she chuckles. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Ana. That’s what I’d like for my win, you not apologizing to me.” He takes her chin in his fingertips and turns her to face him, his eyes staring where hers lie behind the mask. “You did nothing wrong, okay?”

Anarchaia hesitates. Her fists clench tighter in her lap. She swallows before finally whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Koltira throws himself dramatically sideways and grunts. “You’re killing me.” He picks her shirt from where it flopped onto his head and holds it out. “Your shirt, by the way.”

“I’m so—!” Anarchaia throws her hands over her own mouth and sighs through her fingers. She silently takes her shirt back and gives a sheepish grin. “Thanks. Heh.” She turns away and pulls off his shirt, then buttons her own back to her collar. She hands his article back as she ties her own.

“You didn’t have to… You know what? Never mind. Thank you.” He pulls his shirt on, dragging his long hair out through the collar. He sits in the awkward silence for a minute, then looks over at Anarchaia. “So, any ideas for fun now? I’ll admit I am a little drunk. I wouldn’t mind being more drunker.” He chuckles at himself. “Who knows, maybe if you beg me I might let you kiss me.” He winks slyly at her.

She fumbles with the strings at her back. “Damned gloves.” Her smile brightens at the aspect of more alcohol. “Absolutely! Just let me…tie…this…” She curses under her breath when she releases the strings and they fall loose. After glancing into the tent a few yards away, she unbuttons her gloves, pushes up her mask again, and pulls them off with her teeth. She ties her shirt. “‘E cohd con’inoo ah ‘ame,” she says, a glove still in her mouth.

Koltira blinks, then blinks again in rapid succession. “I really hope that glove tastes wonderful, I do. But I can’t understand a word you are saying.” He eyes her hands fidgeting with the strings. “And by the way, I’m not completely incompetent, I can help you with that, if you’d like.”

She slides her gloves back on when finished. “I said ‘be careful, you sound like Grim.’” A chuckle escapes her and she takes up the wine again. “And _I’m_ not completely incompetent, either, mister. Overly apologetic, but not incompetent.” She drinks. “Also, we can continue our old game or start a new one. Guest’s choice.” She offers the bottle.

He takes the bottle, his eyes narrowed. “Like Grim, huh? All right. That whole subject is gone, all right? So keep your mask on and stop gawking at me.” He takes a long drink. “I know a good drinking game, but it’s better with more people.” Koltira sighs. “Drinking in the middle of the woods is less fun than I’d anticipated.”

“No promises,” Anarchaia chuckles when he mentions gawking. “And drinking with only two people is less fun as well.” She conjures another full bottle of liquor instead of asking him to pass the other. “And your game could be fun despite it just being us. What is it?”

“Have you ever played I never?”

Anarchaia nods enthusiastically. “My life hasn’t been too crazy, so I generally win.” She laughs. “Although that was twenty years ago, so…”

“Well, then, I think it’s time you update that list of nevers.” He smirks. “I’ll start.” Koltira thinks as he rubs the pad of his thumb on the mouth of the bottle. “I’ve never been to Stormwind.”

Anarchaia purses her lips and opens the new bottle, then takes a begrudging gulp. She swallows and narrows her eyes. “Well _I’ve_ never been to Silvermoon.”

Koltira chuckles and takes a swig. “You really should, it’s beautiful. I never sought revenge for my murder.” He gives her a sly wink.

“I’ve heard great things about it, yes.” She blinks and straightens. “I-I mean…I didn’t either. They were all killed while I was dead. Does dreaming about it count?”

He chews on his lower lip. “We’ll say yes.”

“Fffffffine.” Anarchaia takes another reluctant drink and smiles. “I’ve never lain with a woman,” she says with a haughty attitude.

Koltira rolls his eyes and drinks. “Well, _I’ve_ never lain with a man.”

The mage does the same, the spirit of competition welling within her. “I’ve never…killed anyone.”

Koltira shakes his head and makes a mocking face. He takes a drink. “I never used magic.”

Anarchaia cocks her head suspiciously. “You mean to tell me all that frosty, floaty, dome-y B.S. isn’t magic?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never considered it magic.”

She places a palm on her chest. “While I happen to know the answer, I’ll give it to you anyway.” She takes a drink and closes her eyes as she swallows, her head spinning. “I’ve never…” She taps her chin with a finger. “Ridden a horse.”

Koltira laughs. “You can’t be serious.” He takes his drink. “You’ve really never ridden a horse? How can you not ride a horse in forty years? That’s just… Have you ever ridden anything?”

She purses her lips again and shrinks. “I was kicked by one when I was eight. Broke five of my ribs and my arm. I don’t do horses. And I don’t like flying, either. I teleport or walk everywhere.”

He blinks. “That sounds tedious.” He shakes his head. “All right. I’ve never… Do you have any idea how hard this is at my age?” He laughs and drinks anyway. “I never cheated on a partner.” He makes a face, acknowledging the lameness of his statement.

“Should I start calling you Old Man?” Anarchaia plugs her bottle with a thumb. “I’ve only had one actual partner and I never cheated on him.” She sticks out her tongue briefly. “ _I’ve_ never…loosed an arrow.”

Koltira sneers playfully at her and takes a drink. “Just don’t make me drink for all of them. I never counted.” He narrows his eyes, gauging her. “I never…lived in Dalaran. Oh gods, I’m sorry, I’m drawing a lot of blanks.”

Anarchaia snerks and takes her drink. “You suggested a game you’re bad at?” She stifles a hiccup into her wrist. “I’ve never danced.”

He claps once and smiles. “Ha! I’ve never danced either.” He drinks anyway and breaks down laughing. “And don’t judge me! We used to play this game with more than one other person. I’m not bad at it, I’m just… Okay, being completely honest I always got out of asking the questions, so Faltora had to take my turn.” He shrugs innocently. “Got any other games you want to play or should we start sobering up before the dog starts whining to be let out?” He grins.

The Forsaken girl chuckles and recorks her bottle, sending it away. “Probably best to sober up, lest something happen on our way to Talonrest. Feel free to finish your bottle, though.” She pulls her mask back down. “You didn’t dance at your wedding? Was it that brief?”

He shakes his head. “It was very short. And not enough people for an actual party. What about you? How have you never danced?”

“Don’t need a party to dance.” Anarchaia shrugs and smiles. “I’ve never been asked.” She pauses for a moment. “Well. That’s a lie. I _have_ been asked. I just never accept the proposals. I’d hate to make a fool of myself. Heh.”

“Dance with Alisbeth,” Koltira says. “She won’t care if you’re good or bad, she’ll love it either way. She’s good, though. Makes her a good fighter.”

The mage laughs and stretches her arms above her head. “Yeah, no thanks. Unless she asks, of course. I can’t seem to say no to her.” She smiles beneath her mask. “As far as combat goes, I did spend two years training under a Pandaren monk. That’s kind of like dancing. Felt like it, anyway.”

“Combat is like a violent dance, she says.” He offers her the wine. “So, a monk? Interesting. What was that like?”

Anarchaia hesitates before declining the drink. “I suppose she’s not wrong. And it was very enlightening. The concept of Chi is extremely fascinating. It really helped me in the ways of conserving my mana and using it more efficiently.” She waves her hands and wrists in a manner not unlike water. “Was fun. Master Wulong was a sweetheart.”

He holds out the bottle again and rubs his eyes. “Sober. Right. Put this up.”

Anarchaia chuckles and takes the liquor. “Well I’ve lost the cork, so… Hope this doesn’t spill.” The bottle disappears and she shrugs. “Can’t get kitchen duty if I’m on an assignment.” She casts another glance at the fading stars and stands to stretch more, stumbling as the remaining alcohol in her veins rushes to her head. “I guess it’s time to wake the dog.”

Koltira laughs. “If you’re open to suggestions, I recommend cold water.” He pushes to stand, but gives up when he wobbles. “Maybe we should take a little more time to sober, first. No rush waking him.”

Anarchaia places her hands on her hips and does her best to stand still. “Perhaps _we_ need some cold water. Shall I call Flayke again? I’m sure he’d love to oblige.” She chuckles.

Koltira’s eyes go wide. “Has Grim met Flayke?”

She scoffs. “Yes. They get along fantastically, to my dismay.” She kicks some grass into the fire, but soon after wobbles and falls onto her backside with a grunt, then chortles.

“Damn.” Koltira scoffs. “I would have loved to see you summon him inside the tent.” He reaches out, joining in her laughter. “Is your ass okay? Do you need help?”

“He’d have just blasted me again,” she laughs, choosing instead to stay sitting and politely waving her hand. “You can’t provide the help I require,” she quips, drawing circles in the air beside her head with a finger and sticking her tongue out beneath her mask. “But thank you. My ass is fine.”

“You’re not crazy. Trust me. I have a little experience in the subject.” He purses his lips. “I have an idea to get him up… I don’t do it, well…ever. But just say the word.”

Anarchaia tilts her head and grins. “Oh? You won’t hear any protests from me…”

Koltira smiles like a devil and motions to the middle of the field. The ground crumbles, providing a hole for a hand to burst from. With some effort, a ghoul climbs from the earth and approaches. “Err?”

“Go wake up our friend in the tent, please.”

The ghoul blinks and cocks its head. “Err!” It walks past him and shoves its way into the tent.

Anarchaia grimaces at the sight of the creature but otherwise smiles as her attention follows him to the tent. “It’s not gonna hurt him, is it?”

“I’m really not worried about Grim’s reaction.”

“ _What the actual shit?_ ” Alisbeth screams.


	18. Chapter 18

Grimory jerks upright at Alisbeth’s scream, glancing around in confusion. Upon seeing the ghoul, he inhales and breathes a massive torrent of emerald fire in the monster’s direction without a moment’s thought.

Anarchaia jumps as the end of the tent explodes in green flames. “Uh.”

Alisbeth gets up on all fours, though still belly-up, and kicks the ghoul in the chest while avoiding the fel fire. The ghoul stumbles from the tent, green flame clinging to the mats of clumped hair on its head and the scraps of clothing on its body.

“ _ERR!_ ” It runs away from the two, straight to Koltira and Anarchaia.

Thinking as quick as he can, the death knight throws a blast of cold sleet at his minion, putting out most of the fire on its head. He scuttles back through the muddy grass as the flames get closer, an arm over the small mage to protect her. He reaches his hand out to throw more sleet at the creature.

Grimory scrambles from the tent to follow the ghoul, then jumps out to his feet. “Is that yours?!” he growls to Koltira, claws ready.

“W-Wait!” Anarchaia grabs Koltira’s arm with both hands. “Don’t harm it! It’s probably hurt and confused!”

Koltira throws another blast of sleet to douse the rest of the flames. “He was just trying to wake you!” he shouts.

“ _Well I’m awake._ ” Grimory barks, his fingers morphing back to their usual thickness.

Alisbeth emerges from the larger tent, sneering in disgust, her axe in her fists. “That _thing_ shouldn’t be here!”

Koltira slips between Alisbeth and the ghoul, clambering to his knees and trying to gain his footing. “Ali, it’s not the same. It’s just a ghoul. They’re our friends.”

Alisbeth shouts in anger and lobs her axe over Koltira’s head. 

“What the hell did you think was going to— _Ali, wait!_ ” Grimory makes to stop her, despite only moments before trying to kill the creature himself.

The axe lodges into the ghouls back. “ _ERRRRRR!_ ” The ghoul takes off running toward the trees.

Anarchaia flinches at the sound of the axe rending through undead flesh. “ _No!_ ” Sobering completely, she struggles to her feet and follows the poor ghoul. “Wait! Let me help you!” she cries, not actually having a plan to aid.

“ _You_ did this?” Alisbeth demands. She kicks Koltira in the chest and he lands on his back. “Are you drunk or just stupid?”

“No need for name calling. Drunk. Very kind of drunk.” He clambers to his feet, his mind sobering, though he still feels the alcohol. “It was a funny idea when I had it, okay?”

Alisbeth purses her lips at him, then runs around him to join Anarchaia in the pursuit.

Grimory sighs and smooths back his hair as he watches the women run off. “One day. That’s all I ask. One day where I’m not messed with.” He rubs a hand over his face, then inspects the damage done to his tent.

Anarchaia throws branches and foliage out of her way as she chases the creature, still calling for him to slow.

“No one said you had to blow up your tent, we were merely looking for an alternative to getting up to wake you.” He glares at Grimory and puts his teeth to his lip. A shrill whistle echoes across the field. The ghoul stops and spins around to run back to Koltira.

Alisbeth stops and grabs the handle of her axe to yank it from the ghoul’s back. It drags her along on her feet for a few feet before the axe pops free and Alisbeth falls on her rear from the sudden loss of resistance.

Grimory scowls. “You couldn’t just, like, yell? It _had_ to be some sort of prank?” He ducks into the tent, not waiting for an answer, and begins folding up the sleeping furs.

Anarchaia halts when she sees the ghoul running back toward her then sidesteps out of his way. She furrows her brow in confusion and pushes past Alisbeth wordlessly, still intent on helping and somewhat irked by the girl’s reckless actions.

The death knight scoffs and ignores Grimory, then sends his summoned minion away.

Alisbeth leaps on him, her weight dragging him to the ground. “Hi,” she says cheerily. “Ashpea and I almost caught it. She’s pretty fast, huh?”

Grimory ties the furs together with twine and sets Anarchaia’s robes aside. “Why I put up with any of this is beyond me,” he grumbles.

Anarchaia gives Alisbeth a silent scowl from beneath her mask and lifts the smaller tent and furs off the ground once Grimory is outside. They disappear in a flurry of sparks and she turns to the heavier tent and sighs. After a small struggle the larger tent meets with the same fate as the first, leaving whatever was inside lying in the grass. She throws her robes back over her head and buttons her hood at her throat.

Koltira sighs. _And there goes the good night we were having._ He stands and begins dressing in his armor as Alisbeth stands humming beside him, doing the same. “How far to our next stop?” he asks.

The mage produces the map from her pack and looks it over. “Not very. We can reach Talonrest by nightfall if we continue on uninterrupted.”

“Is there an inn?” the demon hunter asks tiredly.

“No idea. My guess is no.”

Grimory grunts and stretches. “Oh well. Let’s just go.”

The other two finish getting ready and wait for the others to lead the way.

Still somewhat intoxicated, Anarchaia saunters back across the field to the road with Grimory in tow. She slouches and nearly stumbles as she walks while not fully paying attention.

Grimory eyes her and narrows his eyes, coming to walk beside her. “Are you drunk?” he asks suspiciously.

“Maybe,” she mumbles. “It’s not important.”

Alisbeth purses her lips so tight they turn white. Finally, she glares at Koltira. “Summon another one and I won’t stop myself from bashing its filthy head in.”

Koltira closes his eyes and sighs, trying to clear his head and not say something rude. “Ali…I want you to…” He rubs his palms over his face. “I won’t summon another.”

Anarchaia cocks her head slightly and scowls at Alisbeth’s words. “If you weren’t so crabby you could have joined us.”

“Well I’m sorry but some of us actually _need_ to sleep.” Grimory watches her, worried she may fall. “Besides, it sounds like you two had enough fun for everyone. Woke me up multiple times.”

“Sorry,” Anarchaia responds with genuine sympathy. “We were kind of loud…”

Koltira glares ahead. “I’m not sorry in the least.”

Alisbeth clenches her jaw. “ _Crabby?_ Excuse me? You and me, bitch, right n—”

Koltira grabs her by the arm. “Stop. Just stop.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, but if the shoe fits…” Anarchaia clenches her jaw and continues onto the dirt road.

Grimory shoots a glare over his shoulder at Koltira. “Don’t recall asking for your opinion, pretty boy.”

Koltira returns the demon hunter’s glare. “Pretty boy… Rich coming from a man I can smell a mile away and has so much crap in his hair that it doesn’t even _look_ washed. And I will give my opinion if and when I please and no pansy-ass princess is going to stop me.”

Grimory turns completely and growls, eyes aflame. “I’d sooner be _all_ of those things than some skin-and-bone, pasty-faced _cu—_ ” He stops when he feels a firm hand on his bicep. His jaw clenches as he feels Anarchaia’s warning stare. After giving Koltira one last sneer, he turns back around and spits. “Asshole,” he grumbles beneath his breath.

“Aww, how cute. Puppy knows how to heel. You trained your bitch good, Ana.” Koltira’s smile turns evil beneath his glare.

This time Anarchaia turns before Grimory can react. “Koltira, I’m not in the mood to break up another fight. I understand you two don’t care for one another but let’s keep the jeering to a minimum, okay?” She looks up at Grimory who scoffs. “ _Okay?_ ” she repeats.

“Sure, whatever.”

Koltira scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest, deciding to spend the rest of the day in silence.

Alisbeth smiles up at the grey morning and sighs. “What a beautiful morning to be with friends.”

A few hours pass filled with nothing but the sound of morning bird songs and palpable silence. The sun beats down, but the breeze remains cool. Anarchaia and Grimory nod solemn hellos to passersby on the trail but otherwise remain quiet. Anarchaia produces a small flask of water and drinks in an attempt to ward off a hangover. She sighs, wanting to break the awkward silence but having nothing to say.

Alisbeth spends the day following the other two, waving excitedly at other travelers, and talking in quick whispers to Koltira about the things she sees on the side of the road. He, however, says nothing and ignores everyone, determined to remain in his sour mood.

By the time the sun had fallen past noon, Anarchaia had begun to lag behind the others, drinking her water and remaining silent.

Grimory lifts a hand over his eyes to see further down the path, a dried meat ration hanging from his teeth. “How much further, Ana? I’m getting tired of walking.”

“Then fly,” she groans. “And if I hear that godsdamned question one more time I’m going to go insane. Just walk until it gets dark. That’s all you have to do, Grim. That’s it.”

“Ugh, but—”

“ _Quit acting like a child and walk._ ”

Alisbeth stops walking and waits until the mage catches up to her, then matches pace. “You okay?” She smiles with careful concern in her eyes.

“I’m fine, Ali. Just…kinda tired if I’m being honest.” Anarchaia drinks another sip of water. “I mean I’m always tired, but this is worse.” The sound of Alisbeth’s axe slicing through flesh echoes in her mind and she shakes her head. “I’m okay.”

Alisbeth purses her lips, worry crossing her brow. “Do you use a fertility ward? I can ask that, right? Since we’re friends?”

Anarchaia jerks her head to look up at Alisbeth, the question catching her by surprise. “I-I’m sorry? Why?”

“You’re cranky and tired and, I dunno… Are you going to puke?” She ducks her head to whisper to Anarchaia and puts her arm around the other’s shoulders to hug her. “You can tell me. It’s okay. I know what it’s like. When I found out that mine had fallen off it was kind of scary.” She smiles endearingly.

Anarchaia blinks then gives an airy, uncomfortable laugh. “I-I’m not _pregnant_ , Ali. Heh. Just kind of hungover. I appreciate your concern, though.” She gives the girl’s hand an awkward pat. Her smile turns sad at what Alisbeth is implying, but she keeps any questions she has to herself, thinking it rude to pry.

Alisbeth frowns just a little. “Oh, okay. Just making sure. Cause I can help. I know things.” She stares at the back of Grimory’s head. “You have to wonder, though, if it would have horns or not.” She snerks into her palm and releases the mage.

Anarchaia bristles. “ _What makes you think it’d be his?!_ ” she hisses in a hushed tone.

Alisbeth stops, taken aback. “I-I just thought… I didn’t know… I’m sorry.” She stares at the ground and picks up her pace until she’s beside Koltira again. She clenches her jaw and concentrates on counting her steps.

The group eventually comes upon a small, single story building on the side of the road. Grimory’s eyes light up upon seeing the sign reading _vacancy_. He turns around to speak to Anarchaia then appears surprised to find her further back. “Ana, an inn!”

“It’s not even sundown,” she calls back, sniffling quietly. “And we’re close to our checkpoint.”

“Don’t care. Hot food and a bed.” He sprints down the road before the mage can protest.

Anarchaia groans from the back, muttering her irritation to herself. “I guess we’re stopping.”

Alisbeth looks up just enough to reveal her interest. “It does sound pleasant.”

Anarchaia pays for the only vacant room, and assures the older woman running the inn that it will be adequate. She makes her way down the hall to throw their belongings into their room while Grimory takes up a seat in the small dining foyer and immediately hails the lone handmaid to request something to eat.

Alisbeth takes a seat with Grimory and leans her head on a fist. Koltira purses his lips and points at her. “Stay out of trouble.” He then goes to find a shower room to wash the dirt from his hair.

Anarchaia steps out of the room just in time to catch Koltira in the hallway. She bites her lip and pushes her hood back. “H-Hey, I’m sorry…about earlier.”

Koltira shrugs. “It was my fault. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. I was rude. I let the stress get to me and it was inappropriate.” Anarchaia taps the tips of her pointer fingers together and sniffles.

“First of all, stop saying you’re sorry,” Koltira says. “Second… Are you crying?”

Anarchaia blinks up at him. “No. My nose is just a bit stuffy. And I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing…so, sorry.”

Koltira nods absently. “Fair enough. I’m off for a shower, or bath…whatever they have here. As long as it gets me clean.” He turns to seek out the bath room.

“Uhh the door on the left at the end, I believe she said,” she says as she makes her way back to the dining room.

Grimory smirks down at Alisbeth when her husband leaves. “Staying out of trouble?” he asks as if it’d been hours already. He scoops up the mug of weak ale he’d requested and takes a drink.

Alisbeth purses her lips. “For now. I heard Agira take the last room. You two should be quite cozy in there.” She winks at him.

Grimory lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, Ana. Yeah, no. I thought we’d patched things up but she’s been colder than ever,” he grumbles, glancing over at the unlit fireplace.

“She’s probably mad at what I said earlier. I mean, it was a logical assumption, but I guess she took it wrong when I brought you into it…” Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip. “Yeah, it’s you. She’s pissed at you.”

Grimory sighs and thanks the maid as she sets down his boar ribs. “I know she is. I just don’t know why.”

Alisbeth shrugs emphatically. “Maybe she’s sick of your face.”

The mage saunters into the dining hall. When there she takes up a spot across from the two with a sigh.

Grimory chews idly on his meal, doing his best not to make eye contact with Anarchaia. “Definitely worth the stop.”

Alisbeth puffs out her cheeks and stares at the table. She sighs dramatically. “If you guys need to talk it out I can be scarce. I really can.”

“There’s nothing to talk out,” Anarchaia says pointedly, drumming her fingers on the table. “I’d rather you stay, anyway, Ali. You’re better company.”

Grimory rolls his eyes and finishes his ale, remaining silent lest he make a matter he knows nothing about worse.

“Oh.” Alisbeth shifts, her hands fidgeting under the table. “So…uh… H-How are you feeling? No, um, you know… _bleeeeeh_.” She sticks her tongue out to indicate vomiting.

Anarchaia chuckles weakly and places her chin in her hands. “Not feeling pukey. Just…stuffy and tired.”

Alisbeth chews on her lip. “That’s good then. Just stuffy.” She nods more to her own thoughts than to anyone.

“I told you not to stand in the rain,” Grimory grumbles through the meat in his mouth.

“Oh well thank gods you did. Your hindsight has magically cured me. You should be a priest.”

Alisbeth leans to Grimory. “Don’t be a priest. They’re actually not good people. They don’t follow the Light like a paladin. They stretch the rules to…” she sneers and balls her hands into fists, “to make it _seem_ like they’re trying to help.” She punches the table. “Don’t be a priest.”

The Illidari and mage look at one another for a moment. “Uhhh okay, Ali. I won’t,” Grimory responds, then tosses the clean rib bone into his mouth to crunch it up.

“What makes you say that?” Anarchaia asks before taking another long drink of water. “Most priests I’ve met have been rather pious.”

“He said he’d keep us alive,” she hisses through clenched teeth. “He lied. He watched us die!” Alisbeth looks sick for a moment then straightens, her face giving away nothing. “Are you sure chewing up bones is good for you?” She laughs, poking Grimory on the lips.

Anarchaia inhales to speak but ultimately decides to close her mouth. She folds her arms on the table and lowers her head onto them.

“As far as nutrition goes, they’re pretty good for you.” He swallows and runs his tongue along his sharp teeth before pretending to snap at her finger. “And the marrow is tasty.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes skeptically at him. “If you say so…” She reaches across the table to set a hand on Anarchaia’s elbow. “Did Kolty keep you up all night? He did that to me before… But we weren’t talking.” She laughs. “I slept almost all of the next day.”

“What did I do?” Koltira asks, fiddling with his wet hair, trying to keep it behind his shoulders. He sits beside Anarchaia and cocks an eyebrow at her.

“You can’t keep the living up all night like you did to me!” Alisbeth reaches over to punch his forearm.

Anarchaia shifts her head so that her forehead rests on her forearms and sniffles. Her lips pull into an uncomfortable line at her openness. “It’s not his fault,” she groans into her arms. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”

Grimory picks the bone shards from his gums with his pinky finger. “Try _ever_.”

Koltira points a finger at Alisbeth. “There were no objections, not my fault. It was extenuating circumstances anyway.”

Alisbeth snorts a laugh. “Big words change nothing.” She reaches out to Anarchaia again. “Are you sure you’re okay? Is it the boys? I mean, they can be nauseating sometimes.”

Anarchaia wiggles in her seat in frustration. “I’m not nauseoussss…”

“Maybe you should go lie down for a bit. You’ve probably just got a cold,” Grimory says as he tosses another bone into his mouth. “You could be contagious.”

“I don’t have a fever. I’m probably not contagious.”

“How do you know you don’t? We don’t have medical supplies.”

“I suppose I don’t, then. Thermometers don’t work on me anyway.” She places her forehead on a wrist, then frowns at the stupidity of doing so. “I’ll be fine.”

Alisbeth snorts. “Thermometers work on everyone, even me! They just go the other way.”

“They _work_ per se. They just explode.”

“Maybe you should lie down,” Koltira suggests.

 Anarchaia sighs and gets back to her feet. “I guess I should listen to the masses. I’ll go rest, then.” She makes for the hallway.

“If you need anything, just say,” Grimory calls halfheartedly, pushing his empty plate aside.

Knowing he’s not looking, Anarchaia makes a rude gesture in Grimory’s direction before disappearing down the corridor.

Koltira smirks after Anarchaia, catching the gesture she’d made behind the others’ backs. A moment later he groans and calls the barmaid and orders a large, stiff drink.

Alisbeth smiles at him across the table. “Getting drunk again?”

“Nope.” He smiles and accepts his drink a moment later. “Just doing my best to bear through present company.”

“I’d need to be drunk constantly if I were you, too,” Grimory mumbles, ordering himself another ale.

Koltira smiles, unfazed. “Well, you do get drunk a deal more than I do. Maybe we’re drinking for the same reason.”

Grimory scoffs. “At least you admit it.” He takes a long drink of his ale.

“I take pride in admitting that you’re unbearable.” He takes several swallows of his liquor.

Alisbeth frowns. “Hey, you guys are being mean. Why are you being mean? I thought we were friends.”

Grimory scowls. “I’d use the term _friends_ very, very loosely.” He narrows his eyes and takes down the rest of his ale in a single swallow. “And I’d rather be unbearable than a pushover.”

Alisbeth’s mouth drops open as his words hurt her. She glares and shoves him as hard as she can, then stands. Koltira goes to follow her from the room, but she spins on him. “No. No. I’m going to go spar _alone_. Since I don’t have any friends.” She glares at Grimory.

Grimory flinches as he’s shoved, then turns as Alisbeth leaves. “I didn’t mean y-... You know what? Forget it.” He hails the maid again to order another ale. “Women. I swear to gods.”

Koltira blinks at him. “You really think Ana and Ali are anywhere in the same realm of difficulty? Or do you just prefer to look at all of them as walking pleasure holes?”

Grimory purses his lips. _Don’t say it, Grim._ “You’re right. Ana is much more difficult.”

Koltira takes a long drink. “Oh? How so? Because she can see that you’re not really worth the effort she puts into you?”

Grimory scratches at one of his sideburns. He brings his mug to his lips and says, “Because it took more than a few hours to get her to sleep with me.”

Koltira clears his throat. “The Alisbeth I married would never have looked twice at you. Now, she’s like a child who sees a toy she likes, plays with it once, then decides it’s not good enough to pick up again. That makes you either a toy or a pedophile, in my mind.” He swallows the last of his drink, his eyes narrowed at the demon hunter.

“Not the way she made it sound while we were bathing together.” Grimory scoops up his mug as soon as it’s put in front of him. “Calling her a child is also quite disrespectful. At this point I’d say I treat her better than you do.”

Koltira orders another tall whiskey. “She’s not a child, but her mind is just as delicate. But you never take the time to get to know her. And I don’t care how she makes it sound in one instant, because her mind will change the next. In the end, you’ll be nothing to her, and you’ll be nothing to Ana.”

Grimory scowls. “You may as well stop using Ana to try and get to me. I’ve given up on that endeavor.” He drinks the foam of his drink and watches the handmaid as she lights the fire. “And it’s just that fact about Ali that makes her fun.”

Koltira shakes his head. “I’m not using Ana. It’s good that she doesn’t get to you. She prefers intelligent conversation, anyway—you never stood a chance.” He points at Grimory, pausing to thank the barmaid for his new drink, then turns a glare on him. “Now, you stop talking about Alisbeth like you know her. You have no idea what she’s like, what she’s been through. _Nothing_.”

He glares straight into Koltira’s face as though he doesn’t have a finger pointed at his own. “And you stop talking about Ana like you’re trying to win her over. You’re obviously way too loyal to your wife to mess around with other women. You think I think you’re a threat but you’re really just a pushover.” Grimory drinks his ale, still maintaining eye contact.

“Then I suppose I’ll just go into her room, ask to see those beautiful sapphire eyes again, and give her the kiss she asked for last night.” He finishes his drink in a long swallow. “Maybe I’ll go get Ali, she’s always wanted a woman, Ana is open to it.” Koltira stands and tosses some gold onto the tabletop. “Don’t wait up.”

Grimory growls, his fingers tightening around his cup. _He’s lying to get to you. Don’t start a fight._ “She’s only got one eye, you twit.” He finishes his beverage and does his best not to slam the empty receptacle back on the table. “And there’s no way she’d kiss you. She has morals—unlike you and your wife. But have fun trying.”

Koltira shrugs. “I know she only has one. And I know why. But you probably do, too.” Koltira stomps from the Tavern, trying to appear less angry than he is.

Grimory grunts and hails the maid for one last ale. “Sure you do.”

Koltira ignores going for Alisbeth, and instead heads to the room to tap his knuckles gently against the wood.

“It’s unlocked,” Anarchaia groans from beneath the pillow over her face, hoping whoever’s on the other side can hear.

Koltira opens the door and stops, realizing he has no good reason to disturb her when she’s ill. He clears his throat. “Ana? I was wondering…”

The mage lifts the pillow from her head to peer down at him from the shadows beneath it. “Yes, Mr. Deathweaver?” she says in a nasally tone, sniffling.

Koltira cringes. “Would you like some tea? Soup? I’ll get you anything you want. On me.”

She smiles beneath her mask. “No but you’re kind to ask. Thank you.” Anarchaia releases the pillow and it falls back onto her face with a _pomf!_ “I just need some rest. Please don’t fight with Grim.”

He chews on the cuticle of his thumb. “I can’t lie, that’s why I came in here. An excuse to…not be out there. Get your rest. I’ll go for a walk or something.”

“You could always try getting to know one another,” she mumbles before shoving the pillow into her face to smother a cough.

He grumbles silently. “I think I’ve learned all I want to know about him.” He sighs. “Feel better, Ana. And if you need anything…” He slips out the door.

The mage sighs through multiple layers of fabric and feathers. “This is going to be a long journey.”


	19. Chapter 19

His ale in one hand, Grimory throws himself into the single armchair by the fire and silently seethes. He grabs one of the books from the shelf beside him and looks it over, speculating if it’s worth his time. Grimory throws his legs over an armrest and opens the tome, resting it upon his thighs. He picks at his nails absent mindedly while he scans the first page.

Koltira returns to the tavern and orders a full bottle of whiskey, then takes a rocks glass and finds a seat where he can keep his back to the corner and his eyes on the room.

“How was that kiss?” Grimory jokes with a heavy hint of snark. He takes a sip of ale.

Koltira pours a glass of whiskey. “She’s resting.”

He hums in satisfaction. “And you bothered her.”

“Not at all. She was happy to see me, just needed her rest. Why don’t you give it a go?” He smiles and sighs as he leans back in the chair.

“Because she needs her rest, obviously,” the Illidari hisses, flipping the page of his book. _She wouldn’t want to see me right now, anyway._ He narrows his eyes suddenly after a moment’s thought. “What did you two talk about all last night?”

Koltira shrugs. “Just about everything, I think. Played some drinking games. I’m sure all boring things you’ve done before.” He swallows the whiskey in his glass and refills it.

“That’s bullshit.” He snaps the book shut and cocks his head to glare across the room at Koltira. “You told her what I said about her.” Grimory’s ears twitch as they warm from the alcohol and he finds himself emboldened. “That’s why she’s pissed at me.”

He shrugs at the demon hunter. “That may have come up, yes. If you didn’t want it to get back to her, maybe you shouldn’t have said it.”

Grimory pulls his ears back and sneers. “But I bet you didn’t tell her what _you_ said about her, did you?”

Koltira nods. “I told her I wasn’t without fault, but she didn’t want to hear it. She says I’m too charming to be an asshole.”

Grimory chuckles darkly and finishes his ale. “Oh, I’m sure. I’ll be sure to ask her when I get the chance.” He sets the empty mug on the mantle above the fireplace.

Koltira’s breath pauses in his throat, though he remains collected. “Nothing I said was near as bad as you.”

Grimory grins as he’s given what he equates to a confession. “I’d say it’s equally bad considering the circumstances.” He shifts in the chair to sit in it properly, an ankle on a knee. “When she hears she’ll just assume anything you say or do will be to get in her tight, linen trousers. No more Mr. Charming then, hm?”

“Oh, get over yourself already. You think everything is about fucking. That’s literally the only thing you think Ana is good for.” He swallows back a whole glass of whiskey and pours another. “She is so much more than that, why can’t you see that?”

He bristles again. “I do. Trust me, I do. We’ve shared many nights together filled with conversation. More than _you_.” His jaw flexes as he gnashes his fangs together. “She’s my friend. And what you said about her was quite sexual so one could only take it that way.”

“At least I have remorse for what I said.” Koltira sits back and tries to relax. _Don’t let him get to you._ His mind spins through all the reactions Anarchaia might have and forces himself to hide a flinch.

“And at least _I_ am honest about the kind of person I am.” He clasps his hands behind his head and thinks for a moment. “Tell you what. How about a wager? If I win, you don’t talk to Ana anymore—at least in private. And if you win, I won’t tell her what you said about her.”

Koltira scoffs and shakes his head. “You can’t stop Ana from talking to whomever she wants.” He props his feet on the table in front of him. “Out of curiosity, what’s your game?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t say she couldn’t talk to you. I said you couldn’t talk to her alone.” He leans forward in his seat. “You ‘n me. Outside. No weapons. No armor.”

“No claws,” Koltira growls, “and I’ll show you a real fight, little puppy.”

Grimory smirks and stands. “Just fists.”

Koltira stands as well. He drops gold onto the table and grabs his bottle of whiskey. “Lead the way, pretty boy.”

Grimory scoffs. “Pretty boy? Your charm won’t work on me.” He strides over to the main entrance and pulls the door open, gesturing out into the twilit outside. “Ladies first.”

“Amazing that you think that’s what charm is. No wonder you’re just a one hit wonder with the ladies.” He leans against the wall, refusing to go outside. “Well, go on.”

“I’ve had plenty of relationships but thanks for your concern.” Grimory rolls his eyes and steps outside. “Gods forbid you not take yourself seriously for a moment.”

Koltira makes a rude, childish face behind Grimory’s back just to prove him wrong. He swigs from his bottle, then finds a safe place to set it.

The demon hunter walks a safe distance from the building and turns, unbuckling his belt. He tosses his leg armor to the dirt and kicks off his boots. His knuckles pop as he crunches them together. “Rules: no magic, no hitting below the belt, and most importantly, no mortal strikes. I don’t think we need any more of Ana’s wrath.”

Koltira finishes piling his armor under a tree, then scrapes the sole of his bare foot across the dirt. “Ana says you can fly. None of that, either.” He readies in a boxer’s pose, fists in front of his face.

“Like I’ll be needing my wings for this.” Grimory mimics Koltira’s stance, planting a clawed foot firmly behind him and raising tightly clenched fists. “I’ll even let you go first.”

“How sweet of you.” Koltira studies Grimory carefully, gauging his stance. He sees a momentary opening and sends his right fist toward the demon hunter’s ribs on the left side.

Grimory grunts as Koltira’s first collides with the solid muscle of his torso. He uses his sturdy footing to absorb the blow. Cringing in pain, he aims a similar punch at the other’s jaw.

Koltira sees Grimory’s fist in his periphery and turns his head. The demon hunter’s knuckles graze along his jaw—enough to let him know it was there, but not enough to do real damage. Koltira takes the opportunity to throw another punch under Grimory’s raised arm.

After not landing his blow, Grimory grits his teeth and reels back, holding his bruising arm. Using only a second to recover, he rushes forward to throw his knuckles into Koltira’s center, eyes alight with excitement.

Koltira tries to dodge back, but is too slow. Grimory’s fist impacts Koltira’s sternum, knocking him back. His feet slide along the ground. When he stops, he smirks. “Aimed for the one place I won’t feel it.” He raps his knuckles on his scar, then pulls his arm back and launches forward to hit Grimory in the jaw.

“Like I’d—” Grimory’s head jerks as Koltira’s fist impacts his cheek. He does his best not to stumble back and instead attempts to counter with his own punch to the face and a bestial growl. His mouth fills with blood from the fresh wound on the inside of his cheek.

Koltira ducks under Grimory’s arm, coming up as the man’s torso goes over him, his fist clenched to meet the demon hunter’s abdomen.

The Illidari recovers by throwing his free arm across his stomach. The blow throws him back a step and he attempts to take advantage of the death knight’s low stance, sending a knee toward Koltira’s throat.

Koltira throws himself to the ground and rolls away from Grimory. He jumps to his feet, launching to throw his shoulder into the man’s side and tackle him.

Grimory sidesteps Koltira completely and watches with a smirk, spitting blood into the dirt.

Too late, Koltira realizes that he’s had more whiskey than one should have before a fight. His reflexes slowed, he continues past Grimory and rams his shoulder into a tree. With a grunt, he rolls to sit with his back to the trunk as he holds his shoulder. “Pretty spry, I’ll give you that.” He groans and shoves himself up the tree trunk to stand; the bark digs cuts into his back. “Well come on then. Hit me for real.”

Grimory gives a hearty chuckle, not letting the other see how much his own alcohol had affected him. “As you wish.”

After a moment’s preparation, Grimory rushes forward, a fist readied with all his weight behind it. He aims a heavy blow to Koltira’s shoulder in hopes of disabling the death knight.

Koltira rolls around the side of the trunk, hoping Grimory can’t stop in time.

The force of his punch causes a rain of needles to fall from the tree.

Grimory barks in pain and recoils, shaking his split knuckles. “ _Bastard!_ ”

Koltira chuckles darkly and steps back to where they’d started. “Come on, you pantywaist. _Hit me!_ ”

Grimory narrows an eye as he turns, sucking the blood from the back of his hand. “Are you sure that’s even word?” He pushes a foot back as his head spins. He takes a moment to collect himself before launching forward again, aiming the same fist with the same strength at Koltira’s clavicle.

Koltira spins away from Grimory again and laughs, trying to seem more sober than he is as he jabs out with his fist to hit Grimory in the spine, his own shoulder tearing in pain.

Grimory falls to his stomach in the dirt with an _oof!_ and hisses in pain. He growls and turns to sweep a leg at Koltira’s ankles.

Koltira yelps as his legs are swiped out from under him. He falls to his back with a grunt and groans up at the stars appearing one-by-one in the dusky sky. He lets out a long sigh and slowly sits up to look at the prostrate demon hunter. “Are we done yet? I could use another drink.”

Grimory sways to his feet and blinks slowly down at the man. After a long moment he chuckles, rubbing at his cheek. The chuckling grows to a boisterous laugh. Flicking his wrist one more time to throw the blood from his hand, the demon hunter holds out his left to help Koltira up. “That makes two of us. You fight well.”

Koltira smirks and accepts the hand up. “As do you.” He lets the laughter take him too and grabs his whiskey. “What’s your drink? On me.”

Grimory presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek to inspect the damage. He grins and fixes his hair. “Whatever you’re having is fine by me.” He sits in the dirt with little grace and pulls his boots back on. “Next round’s on me though. Do you drink as well as you fight?”

Koltira takes a gulp of whiskey and drops down beside Grimory. He holds out the bottle for him. “I’m a death knight, of course I drink as well as I fight. Drink someone like you under the table.”

The demon hunter happily accepts the bottle and takes a large swallow, exhaling as he hands it back. “I suppose a dead man would have an advantage. One could almost consider it cheating.” He gives Koltira a playful smirk.

“Could always water yours down.” He grimaces at the thought of watered down whiskey and takes a drink.

“I’d sooner die of alcohol poisoning,” Grimory says with a laugh. “Though I’d be back. Presumably to do it all over again.” He runs a thumb over his wounded knuckles, smearing the now thick blood around. “So, the scar.”

Koltira offers the bottle. “Oh, you mean this one? Hardly noticeable.”

“It’s pretty nasty. I can only assume it’s what did you in.” He accepts and drinks. “A sword, I’m guessing?”

Koltira nods. “My friend’s. He got in a good shot, I lost my sword. Through and through. Next thing I know…” He shrugs and motions at his face.

“Sounds like a good friend,” he snorts and hands the bottle back.

Koltira takes a drink and laughs. “Well, he wasn’t my friend when he killed me. Just after.” He sighs and takes a larger drink. “Alright, Grim, you don’t tell Ana, right?”

“I guess you’ve earned that,” he says begrudgingly. He pushes himself to his feet, nearly stumbling as he picks up his belt from the dirt and fastens it about his waist. “I’m a man of my word.”

“How about this, I won’t talk about her to you, especially not in that way.” He ignores getting up and digs a heel into the dirt. “I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t talk about Alisbeth that way, either. Please. It’s…” He gulps down the last of the bottle. “It’s bad enough without you reminding me.”

Grimory adjusts his armor and tightens his belt accordingly. “You’re right. I can only imagine. Please accept my apologies.” He clears his throat. “I…feel pretty badly. Still.”

Koltira hauls himself to his feet and goes over to kick at his armor, a grumpy expression on his face. “We were both out of hand. I’m sure neither of us meant what we said.” He deflates. “I really don’t want to put this back on.”

“And did things we regret.” He snorts. “Then don’t put it back on.”

Alisbeth runs around the side of the building and stops, her eyes buggy and paranoid. She sees the two and smiles overly-innocent. “Hiiiiii, guuuys!” She looks behind her and walks forward, then throws a head-sized bag at Grimory. “Hold this for me, kay?” She kisses the air and takes off at a sprint.

Grimory blinks at Alisbeth, then catches the bag. “Uhhh…okay?” He inspects it and scrunches his face. “I’m afraid to open this.”

Koltira’s eyes widen. “Don’t open the bag. Ali!” He turns to chase her, but she’s already gone. He holds up his hands in defeat. “You know what…I’m too drunk for this…or not drunk enough.” He gathers up his armor. “I’m going to see if Ana will allow me to put this in her room, then I’m getting drunker. Care to join?”

Grimory drops the bag to ground and cringes. “Sounds like a plan to me.” He makes his way back inside, sucking on a bloody knuckle. “I’ll order us some rounds. If you aren’t back in five minutes, I’m drinking them all.”

Koltira knocks on the door to Ana’s room as he pulls his shirt back on.

“It’s still unlocked,” Anarchaia calls into the growing darkness of her room.

He opens the door and peers cautiously inside. “Mind if I leave my things in here?” He blinks, hoping his slurring isn’t as pronounced as he thinks.

Anarchaia sits up and sniffles. “Kolt, this is everyone’s room. Not just mine.” She inhales as though to sneeze, quickly pushing her mask up as not to messy it, then exhales slowly as the feeling subsides. “And you don’t need to keep knocking.”

He shrugs sheepishly. “You’re trying to rest. Before I go did you change your mind about needing anything?”

“I did not.” The mage lies back down and curls up on her side, sniffling again. “And you’re still sweet for asking.”

“Goodnight, then.” He turns and stumbles out the door. “You didn’t see that.”

She chuckles despite the irritation in her throat. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Good night.”

Grimory props his feet up on the long table in the dining hall and thanks the barmaid as she sets down his order of two bottles of gin. He shoots her a pleasant smile as says thanks, then pops the top off one.

Koltira enters the tavern, then stops, his eyes wide as he remembers the bag outside. He takes a deep breath and resolves that it’s better it stay outside. He takes his seat across from Grimory and grabs the uncorked bottle. He takes a sip. “Nice choice.”

“Dad drank a lot of gin,” Grimory says with a smile. He uncorks the other bottle and takes a long, slow sip. “Is she asleep? She really should be.”

Koltira purses his lips. “Yes, of course she is. I just let myself in.” He takes a heavier drink and stares at the flames in the fireplace.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows. “Wow. She must really be sick. I haven’t seen her sleep since that incident in Suramar months ago.” He takes another sip and glances out the window at the smattering of stars through the darkening sky.

“What happened in Sura—”

“ _Kolty!_ ” Alisbeth stomps into the room with the bag in her first. “You left it _outside_?” She smacks the bag onto the table.

Grimory jumps as the bag is slammed on the table. “Uh…we didn’t want to open it.”

“Ali, get that out of here.”

Alisbeth makes a face at each man in turn. “Pussies.” She opens the bag and smiles into it. Without pause, she pushes her face inside and a loud crunch follows.


	20. Chapter 20

Koltira’s nose wrinkles as his mouth drops open.

Grimory’s expression morphs into one of disgusted confusion. “What the fuck, Ali…”

She brings her face up, a wide smile spreads across her lips as she chews. She swallows and sighs. “Tastes like nothing, but that crunch is wonderful.” She takes another bite, then tosses it at Koltira. “Try some!”

Koltira puts his hands up to deflect whatever horror she has in the bag. It hits the table and out rolls a cabbage. “A—… Y—…” He purses his lips and composes himself. “Ali…you have a cabbage in your head sack.”

She smiles. “Well, it’s a head, isn’t it?”

Grimory gives a hearty laugh and plucks a leaf from the head. “You’re not wrong. Here I thought you were cannibalizing some poor bastard.” He tosses the leaf into his mouth and crunches it.

Koltira’s disgusted sneer doesn’t go away. “You don’t want to know what she keeps in the bag normally.”

“Surprise! Forsaken heads. Don’t worry, I washed it. I think.” Her eyes bug with paranoia and she grabs up the cabbage. “If a big guy comes in here, you didn’t see me, and you don’t know anything about a cabbage.”

Grimory swallows. “I’ve eaten worse, my friend.” He gives Alisbeth a salute of agreement and takes a sip of gin. “Don’t steal anymore though. Just in case.”

“Where are you going?” Koltira calls after Alisbeth.

She stops at the door. “Ana has a room, right?” She smiles wide and takes off.

“Ali, don’t—! Dammit…”

“She’s asleep,” Grimory calls after her, his legs dropping from the table as if to follow but he decides against it. “Eh, screw it.”

Koltira sighs into the bottle, then takes a drink. “I’m sure that even sick Ana can handle…whatever that was. If not then she can light Ali on fire.”

Grimory waves a hand as he swallows a mouthful of alcohol. “I’ve not seen Ana light one person on fire the entire time we’ve been together. Let alone someone she likes.”

Koltira chuckles. “That’s a shame. Ali would  _love_  that. You have no idea how much she loves fire.” He pauses to think. “I don’t think she would if Thassarian told her everything.” He shrugs and turns to prop his feet up.

Grimory cocks his head. “Oh? Don’t tell me something like that and not expect me to ask for the story.”

Koltira takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Not a word to Alisbeth.”

“On my honor.” He brings the bottle to his heart and holds up his free hand.

“He wasn’t there when she died, but he found her after. He’d sneaked back into Andorhal, heard a noise. They took off when he neared and left her right next to where the Forsaken were burning the Alliance and Twilight Cultist bodies. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the rest.” He stares at the bottle in his hand and runs a thumb along the glass.

Grimory furrows his brow and shakes his head. “At least she wasn’t burned as well. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.” He scoffs into his bottle. “You know who it was?”

He shakes his head. “I wasn’t there, either. Ali has only told me it was two Forsaken. A priest and a warlock. Sometimes she’ll give better details, but most of the time every Forsaken is guilty in her eyes. She only barely stands ghouls.” He rubs his palms over his face.

Grimory scoffs again. “Go figure. Never heard of a Forsaken doing anything good to anyone. I honestly don’t blame her.”

“So, what was it like spending ten years as an emerald pendant?”

He drinks a large mouthful and hisses as he swallows. “Boring. Maddening. Spent a lot of time sleeping. Thinking. I wouldn’t recommend it. No room service.”

Koltira laughs. “Those bastards! How dare they not provide you with filet mignon every day.”

“Right?!” He laughs.

The death knight takes a thoughtful drink. “I’ve lived with the Forsaken, and yes, they can be…well… But I’ve never heard of them attacking another member of the Horde just to experiment on her and… It’s a level of depravity I can’t forgive.”

“Evil comes in all shapes and sizes, my friend. Often the same ones.” He drinks and eyes the remainder of his alcohol. “Never met a Forsaken I liked, and don’t believe I ever will. But whatever. I’ve really no reason to be salty like Ali.”

Koltira purses his lips, doing his best to hide his smile at the irony. He instead decides to go for tact. “I’ve met a few that are truly wonderful people. Really. You can’t always blanket everyone in the same expectations. I hated Thassarian for the night I still lived after meeting him. Turns out he’s the only real friend I have within Acherus. Maybe one day you’ll find yourself fighting alongside a Forsaken and realize you’d found a true friend.”

Grimory shrugs. “Not likely. But you never know, I guess.” He savors a drink of gin and swallows. “So, what’s it like being a dead? Cold, I’d imagine.”

Koltira gives a short chuckle, then takes a drink. “Actually, no. I don’t feel the cold. I prefer cold weather, like the snows of Northrend. Heat is another story. The average human body temperature can be…uncomfortable in certain areas.” He fights back a naughty smirk at a memory, then allows himself to laugh anyway. He takes a drink and levels his sights on Grimory. “What about you? Are you easily cold or is it just your eyes that are fiery?”

“I’m of average body heat,” the Illidari responds, sloshing around the remaining alcohol in his bottle. “No clue about the eyes, to be honest. Just a perk of being a mutant, I guess.” He drinks. “And uncomfortable you say? You  _really_  wouldn’t like being with Ana, then.” He chuckles then lifts a hand. “I’m not being crass. Just stating a fact. I promise. No disrespect.”

Koltira sighs at the gin. “Between us, it wouldn’t happen.” He clears his throat in discomfort. “You were right. I was only saying that to get to you. Mostly to figure out what the hell you two mean to each other. You both say nothing, but your actions scream jealousy.”

“I had a hunch.” Grimory yawns into a fist. “You seem like too much of a nice guy anyway.” He takes a swig and glances at Koltira, holding the liquid in his cheek before swallowing. “And maybe I am jealous. Maybe I  _do_  like her.” He nibbles at his own bottom lip with sharp teeth. “Maybe.”

Koltira grimaces. “I’m really not a nice guy, but it’s…more complicated than that.” He gulps the gin and swishes it around in the bottle. “Ana is…an easy person to like.”

Grimory hums in agreement as he drinks. “She is. She’s very…accommodating.” He casts a glance down the hall. “Very smart. Very…” He sighs and downs the last of his gin, closing his eyes to feel the buzz. “As I’ve said. She’s a good friend.”

Koltira also finishes his bottle and sets it on the table. He takes the opening in his fingertips and spins it along the tabletop. It falls from the edge and he catches it. He sighs. “The worst part of all this is the boredom during our camps. No offense, but, we’d save a lot of time if you didn’t have to sleep.”

The demon hunter raises his eyebrows and gives the man an unenthusiastic stare. “Well excuse me for being alive,” he says sarcastically. “You realize that most people need sleep. It’s why inns exist at all.”

Koltira shrugs. “I did say, ‘no offense.’ I’m used to patrols and training recruits and… Not waiting around.” He slides the bottle away and scrutinizes the demon hunter. “Why was Ali in your tent last night?”

“She wanted to touch my tattoos and watch me sleep.” He slides his own bottle toward Koltira’s, hoping to tap the other bottle hard enough to tip it over but not knock it off the table completely. “Weird, but whatever. She wasn’t hurting anyone.”

Koltira nods. “You glow and you sleep. That can entertain her for days.” He stretches and rubs his face, wanting to get another round but knowing that neither of them should be drinking any more than they already have. “So, how does an Illidari, such as yourself, wind up traveling the world with the most reclusive mage I’ve ever met?”

Grimory leans back to put his feet up, but decides it best to lie down lengthwise on the bench when the alcohol makes the room swirl. “It was the second assignment I’ve ever been given. I was basically told ‘Go to Dalaran and ask if you can help’. So I did. Spoke with the Main Man runnin’ the place. He wanted me to go to Suramar to see if I could get the people there on our side against the Burning Legion—why it would take months of convincing just to get someone  _against_  the Legion is beyond me—and asked if I would bring his apprentice along for the sake of ‘research’.” He shrugs, then puts his hands behind his head. “As much as I wanted to say no, Sunfury told me to agree to anything the old mage said. So I did.”

“Do you resent it?” Koltira asks, leaning forward to cross his arms on the table and lean his chin on them.

“Resent what? Doing what I was told? Meeting her?” Grimory sniffs loudly and looks up at the ceiling. “I guess not. She’s gotten us out of some tight situations. And…to be honest, the Suramar thing probably would have taken longer without her.”

“I can see how that would make things much easier. It does make me wonder what the motivations are for her to be out in the world when she’d clearly rather do her research behind books and away from people.” A few tavern patrons exit; Koltira watches them go, lazily taking in their weaknesses as though they are opponents.

“Her motivations are the same as mine. She’d walk through a lumber miller for that old man if he told her to,” Grimory says, a tone of sourness in his voice. He pushes his boots off onto the floor.

Koltira smirks. “Is that a hint of jealousy in your voice?” He chuckles and eyes the demon hunter.

Grimory tilts his head to give Koltira another unenthused glance. “I have no right to be jealous,” he says, skirting around the question.

“Jealousy isn’t a right one earns. You can be jealous of another man’s ability to capture the attention of someone you care for, whether you’re in a relationship of any kind or not.”

“If you’re looking for some kind of confession, you’re barking up the wrong tree, friend.” He turns his gaze back to the ceiling. “She can make her own decisions.” He scrunches up his face. “No matter how wrong.”

Koltira shrugs and mumbles, “Not looking for confessions. You wanna be jealous, be jealous. I’m jealous about things. I bet that ugly-ass mutt in the corner is jealous about something.” His gaze slides to mangy Worgen hiding his muzzle behind a stein of mead.

Grimory cranes his head as inconspicuously as possible, then snerks and lies back down. “So that’s what that smell is,” he says with a smirk.

Koltira holds back a chuckle at the Worgen’s expense. He snorts, then breaks down laughing. He tries to contain himself, but the effort only makes him laugh harder.

Grimory joins in the laughter before sitting up. “I wonder what Ali’s up to. Hopefully not stealing more cabbages.” He stretches and watches the elderly innkeeper saunter off down the hallway to retire for the night. “Or worse. She seems like a troublemaker.”

Koltira puts his hands over his face. “I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on her. If Mograine ever finds out she’s been running around like she has…ugh.”

“Your superior, I take it? What’s he got against her? I mean sure, she’s pretty wild, but…”

He chews on his lip and lays down on his own bench, glancing at Grimory under the table. “She’s out of control. While I was gone, no one could keep her in line. Then when they found the trunk in Bloodmist’s stable stall… Thassarian saved her life, again.”

The demon hunter lifts his eyebrows. “There’re…so many questions I could ask from that.”

Koltira laughs. “That’s not one of her hot-button subjects, so it’s safe to ask. Just be ready for an ear-full. And repeated ‘They overreacted, I did nothing wrong!’” He raises his voice an octave to sound more feminine at the end, then laughs again.

“Couldn’t I just ask you? I feel like her answers would be, well, all over the place.” Grimory taps his blunt fingers on the wood of the table. “Your answers would probably be more informative—minus the Alisbeth impression.” He laughs dryly.

Koltira sighs. “Okay. Not as exciting as when she tells it, but… She’d been sneaking out of Acherus seeking to avenge…” He clears his throat. “I guess someone smelled something in the stables, they went to look and she went absolutely rabid. They restrained her and found dozens of rotting Forsaken heads. Her ‘collection’. Mograine ordered her execution, Thassarian came up with an alternative.” He sighs and presses his palm to his forehead, and closes his eyes. “She was only distraught before. What you see now is a product of being locked in a room for four years, unable to sate the bloodlust our kind feels.”

Grimory gives a solemn nod. “I can understand her rage. It’s a shame she feels the need for revenge to begin with.” He pokes a tooth out of the corner of his mouth to scratch at his lower lip. “What were you gone for? Military leave?”

“Reprogramming,” he says, using his fingers to make air quotes. “Wasn’t my choice.”

The demon hunter furrows his brow, his eyes widening slightly. “Did you get caught?”

Koltira furrows his brow, then remembers. “Oh, right…ten years in a crystal. Short version, I made a treaty to gain control of Andorhal in the Western Plaguelands. Sylvanas didn’t like how I handled the situation and took me to Undercity, saying I’d gone soft. Alisbeth in her worst mood is a vacation compared to that.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows again. “Sylvanas Windrunner? The Warchief?” He grins impishly. “I wouldn’t mind being  _reprogrammed_  by her, if you catch my drift. But seriously, that sounds like no fun.”

The death knight sneers. “First of all, gross. Second, she has her human boy toy. Third…gross.” He sniffs indignantly.

Grimory shrugs. “Hey man, she’s hot. Don’t judge. Plus, she’s not  _really_  undead. Well she is, but, like…more ghostly than rotting.” He shudders. “Otherwise I’d say no thank you.”

Koltira raises incredulous eyebrows at the demon hunter. “She’s a banshee possessing her own corpse. She’s more undead than I am. She was  _dead_  longer than I was.” He shakes his head. “But if that’s your taste in women…” he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from accidentally bringing Anarchaia into the conversation.

“I recall saying not to judge me,” Grimory replies, holding his hands up defensively. “I’ve decided not to judge you and your strangely open marriage. Grant me the same respect.” He laughs.

Koltira chuckles awkwardly. “I suppose that’s true. I mean, who am  _I_  to judge anyone having relations with a corpse?”

“One would dare to call you a hypocrite,” Grimory grins.

He purses his lips and nods, deciding to say nothing.  _Maybe one day you’ll find out…_

Grimory stretches and groans. “Ugh, that’s right. Ana took the last room. Guess I’m not sleeping tonight.” He glances around for the handmaid. “May as well get drunker, then.”

Koltira laughs. “Could just shove her over and pass out.”

“That room is a bio-hazard.” Grimory orders himself another bottle of gin from the tired maid. “I’d rather just drink so much that I don’t care where I pass out.”

“Whiskey, please. Whole bottle,” Koltira calls after the maid, giving her as charming a smile as he can. He turns his attention on the demon hunter and shrugs. “Fair enough. But if you end up cuddling me we’re going to have words.”

“I dunno,” Grimory says with a grin and another shrug. “From behind one could easily mistake you for a maiden. Such long hair and slim shoulders. Would hardly be my fault.”

Koltira laughs. “You’re just mad that you couldn’t pull it off to have hair this long. It’d probably get tangled in your horns, anyway.”

“I’ll have you know I had an impressive ponytail in my youth.” Grimory shoots a thankful grin at the barmaid as she drops off the men’s bottles. “But you’re right. I had to cut it all off after, well, this.” He draws a circle in the air around the crown of his head. “Was a sad day.”

Koltira nods in agreement and pops the cork from his drink. “I gotta ask something…”

The demon hunter lifts a brow while doing the same. “Sounds important.”

He takes a drink and leans across the table as though what he has to say is a secret. “Are you as  _bored_  of all this as I am? Aside from the girls, this has really been…well, boring.”

Grimory nearly chokes on his drink as he laughs. “Are you kidding? I’ve been bored of this since I met Ana. The whole Suramar thing was a big drag. No fighting. Lots of talking, running errands for strangers.” He sighs and glances back out the window. “I’d rather be on the frontlines somewhere.” He takes another drink and examines the outside of the bottle. “Or fishing.”

Koltira narrows his eyes, ignoring the last comment for a moment. “Well, there was that one time when we tried to kill each other. That wasn’t boring. Truth-or-Dare with Ana was fun. But I have to agree, I’d like to be killing things. So would Ali.” He clears his throat. “Speaking of which, I apologize in advance.”

The corners of Grimory’s lips tighten at the mention of Truth-or-Dare, but he says nothing. “For what?” he asks suspiciously.

“She gets excited when she gets to kill things.” Koltira shrugs.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

He takes a drink and furrows his brow. “So… _fishing_ …”

He narrows an eye. “What’s wrong with fishing?”

“You like to fish? Like…when you’re awake? Intentionally?”

“It sounds like you’re judging me.” Grimory takes a swig of his bottle. “All right, pretty boy, what do  _you_  like to do in your free time?”

Koltira thinks hard, nursing the whiskey as he does. “My last year in Quel’Thalas I did a lot of herb gathering. But in my defense, it was because Alisbeth was an apprentice apothecary and it was the least suspicious way for me to spend time with her. After that, I, um…” He furrows his brow. “I’ve not had any time for myself since I died. Before Ali arrived, I did a lot of fletching. I suppose it could be called a hobby.” He shrugs and takes another drink.

Grimory narrows his eyes. “You make fun of me for enjoying fishing…and you pick flowers.”

He smirks. “Are you saying I was wrong to use flower picking as an excuse to spend time with a beautiful maiden? She’s the only part of it I enjoyed.” Koltira picks at a splinter in the table. “I’d go for weeks without seeing her…herbs for the apothecary was the best excuse we found.” He takes a drink and sets his sights on Grimory. “Okay then, what’s so much better about fishing?”

“Peace and quiet.” Grimory chews on his own words for a moment, the alcohol impairing his ability to reason. “And fish. Fish are tasty. You can’t eat flowers.” He pauses and narrows his eyes at his own comment. “Well you can, but…” Bringing the bottle to his lips, he takes a long drink, the contents no longer burning his throat. “I suppose I can’t chastise you for doing something lame for the woman you love.”

“Ha!” Koltira smiles and chuckles into the bottle. “I didn’t love her when I started. I just thought she was beautiful and couldn’t think of any other way to get her to the temple. She, um, didn’t like me much, I don’t think.” He takes a drink and laughs. “She actually punched me for it.”

Grimory raises his eyebrows and laughs. “Does she have a good arm on her?”

“Oh, that’s right, she hasn’t hit you yet. Short answer: yes.”

“I’d say it was all worth it in the end, yet.” He takes another drink. “And here’s to hoping she never does.”

“You’ll get it one day, probably for no reason. Just wait.” He smiles and takes a drink, realizing how hot his face feels.

“So Truth-or-Dare with Ana.” Grimory grasps the edge of the table to steady himself. He glances down the hallway then lowers his voice, leaning forward. “Did you make her show you her face?”

Koltira chews on the inside of his lip. He takes a drink and plans his response, but his plan fails as his drunken mouth instead says, “I’d already seen it. Didn’t need to.” His eyes widen and he stops. “See, that’s not what I meant to say. I meant to say…something else that sounded less absurd.” He takes a drink and sniffs ambivalently.

The demon hunter leans back as if having been physically struck. He fumbles over his words, the bottom of his bottle  _thunk_ ing against the wooden table as he sets it down. “You’re joking. You’ve gotta be,” he slurs. “How could you have?”

Koltira laughs casually. “Well, I mean… You’ve seen one Kaldorei you’ve seen them all, right?” He chugs a few swallows of his whiskey as he stares at Grimory from the corner of his eye.

Grimory scowls. “That’s bullshit. There’s a reason she hides her face all the…time.” He swallows, struggling to keep his sober appearance. He leans forward again and narrows his eyes. “Tell me.”

Koltira smacks his forehead onto the table and grumbles into the wood. He holds up an index finger. “I made a promise and I won’t break it no matter how much I drink. But she hides her face because she’s an idiot.”

Grimory grits his teeth and leans back in an attempt to not appear desperate. “How so?”

Koltira doesn’t lift his head. “Because she’s very pretty,” he says into the wood. “But she thinks she’s ugly.”

The Illidari scrunches his face. “That sounds stupid.” He drinks. “I mean, I get that a lot of women are really insecure but going so far as to not show your face to  _anyone_?” He scoffs. “Well, besides the old man and  _you_ , apparently.” His teeth graze at his lower lip, the irritation rising. “There’s gotta be something. She can’t be a boy, that’s for sure. Does she have a scar? Maybe a burn mark?”

The death knight shifts in his discomfort. “No, no. No.” He clears his throat. “No. Nooooo.”

“Wait, you said she was asleep, right?” Grimory stands quickly, his bottle nearly toppling over as well as himself. “I’ll…be right back.”

Koltira launches across the table, his heels toppling the bench. He grabs the demon hunter’s arm and pulls. “Don’t you dare. That’s dishonorable.”

Grimory grunts as he’s pulled, bending at the waist. He catches his fall with a hand on the table. He grits his teeth and wrenches his arm away and straightens. Reluctantly, he sits back down and grumbles. “I guess you’re right,” he mutters. After a moment, he narrows an eye. “You realize your reaction only raises more questions.”

Koltira throws his hair back over one shoulder and straightens indignantly. “What sort of questions?” He bends and rights the bench, nearly misses sitting on it, then takes a seat and clasps his hands on the tabletop in a professional manner.

Grimory struggles not to laugh at the man’s demeanor. “Like why you’re trying so hard.” He takes up his bottle again and narrows an eye. “You’ve not known her for very long. Why bother?”

“I…understand where she’s coming from. She deserves her privacy as much as any of us.” He shrugs and finishes what’s in his bottle. “I haven’t gotten this drunk in a long time, I’ll admit that.”

Grimory gives a nod as though involved in some deep, intellectual conversation, a thumb and forefinger around his beard. “So she  _is_  ugly. Well, that’s a shame.” He drinks and slams the bottle back down, feeling a mixture of bitterness and curiosity. “And is that so? Sounds like you need to get out more, friend.”

“I have been free from Undercity for only a few months,” Koltira says with a slight slur. “I’ve been busy with other things, like keeping Alisbeth from doing all the stupid shit that got her locked up in the first place.” He sighs. “Anarchaia’s not ugly. Not to me, anyway. Very cute. I wonder—never mind. No I don’t.” He tips back the whiskey bottle, then growls as it has remained empty.

“Welcome back t’ the real world, then.” Grimory grins and slides his own, half empty bottle across the table before tilting his head. “You wonder what? You can’t juss say shit like that ‘nd not expect me t’ ask.”

“You, Sir Grimory, are trashed.” Koltira accepts the bottle and takes a drink, then puts it back in front of the demon hunter.

He narrows his eyes and purses his lips, nodding again. “Fair point.” He points at Koltira with the neck of the bottle. “Not a good ‘nuff diversion, though.”

Koltira sighs and purses his lips, already hating himself for what he’s about to say out loud, even though it had only been a passing thought he never wanted answered. “You an’ me. Like… If Ali were to chooose who’s better…” He shrugs. “Dumbest thought I’ve had in a long time.”

Grimory furrows his brow. After a moment, he scowls. “Yer damn right iss the dumbest thing you thought.” He goes to take a drink but instead keeps talking. “The hell would you think that? She obviously loves you a lot. Don’t…Don’t be stupid.”

“Hey,” Koltira snaps, “we’re not talkin’ ‘bout love here.” He looks around and smacks his lips together, narrowing his eyes at Grimory. “Isn’t it past your bed time?”

The demon hunter bristles and squares his shoulders. “I was trying to make you feel better,” he slurs. “Y’know. Fer being dumb.”

Koltira points at him. “Don’t make me kick your ass again.”

Grimory stands and leans in close. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he growls, his breath heavy with gin.

Koltira stands to put his face in Grimory’s. “Don’t. Make. Me. K-Ki-hick…” He chuckles, then composes himself. “Your. S-stupid fel ass… Again.” He purses his lips as he releases an airy laugh through his nose, though he tries to look perfectly composed.

Grimory breathes out a similar chuckle, not bothering to contain himself. “I recall yyyyyyou being on th’ ground la-hahast time,” he laughs, poking a blunt finger into Koltira’s shoulder.

“I let you off easy,” Koltira says, poking the Illidari’s shoulder in return.

Alisbeth comes stomping into the room as though she has two left feet; she spins around as she walks, scanning the room wildly. She bumps into the table with her rear and jumps as though it had snuck up on her. She turns around and stares at the two with wide, panicky eyes. “H-heeeeeey…boooys….” She grips the top of her head sack tighter in her fist.


	21. Chapter 21

Grimory cocks his head to look at Alisbeth…and her bag. “Heeeeeeeey Aliiiiiii,” he responds in the same tone. “Whatcha got there? More cabbages?”

She gives him a suspiciously innocent smile and giggles. “Oh, you. You’re just so cute.” She musses up his hair.

He mimics her smile. “Whatcha got there, Ali?” the demon hunter says again, louder this time as he swats her hand away. “ _More cabbages?_ ”

“Sssaaayyyy…could you hold this for me and maybe, I dunno…get rid of it? That would be absolutely fantastic. I know you’re just such a love and like to help out.” She twists her finger through Grimory’s small beard. “Maybe you could do that breathing fire thing on it?” She scrunches up her face in a Cheshire smile.

Koltira narrows his eyes. “What’s in the bag?”

“Yeah, I’d rather not be an accomplice to a crime,” Grimory responds coolly and with surprising clarity despite his intoxication; his grin remains unwavering.

Koltira tries to grab the bag, but Alisbeth keeps a firm grip. Her smile tightens as she turns to him. “I’m negotiating with Gimpy. Could you give us a minute?”

Koltira squeezes her wrist in one hand and pulls on the bag with the other. She lets go and pouts over her minor injury. He opens the bag. His eyes widen and he closes it and sets it down. “There better be a very,  _very_  good explanation for this.”

Eyeing the two, Grimory takes a slow, cautious drink in preparation for what he may see.

Alisbeth forces a laugh, her lips wide in a manic smile. “It’s like you think I just do things for no reason! Don’t you trust me?”

Koltira blinks in quick succession and pulls the bottle out of Grimory’s hand, then takes his own long drink. He presses the bottle back into the demon hunter’s palm.

“What is it?” Grimory whispers, his eyes wide with suspicion and excitement.

Koltira purses his lips. “I think we need to leave…now.” He grabs the sack and stuffs his hand in his coin pouch for gold to pay for the drinks.

Alisbeth stretches over the table. “Give it back! That’s mine!”

“What about Ana?” Grimory asks with a befuddled look, grabbing his bottle as if it were the most important thing to him.

Koltira stumbles on his own feet and realizes Anarchaia is the least of their problems. “Ali, did anybody see you?”

She thinks, then shrugs. “I dunno. Are you drunk? Again?” She eyes the two. “Caaaaan I have some?” She sits sideways on the end of the table and gives them a sweet smile.

“I don’t think so,” Grimory responds, pulling his gin close to himself. “We kind of have a little issue about what’s in the bag, I guess?”

“Hey. Hey.  _Hey_. You guys were mad when it was just a cabbage in the bag, don’t get mad at me for using it as intended.” She scoots closer to Grimory. “Just an eensy weensy sip?”

Koltira straightens. “You’re right. What about Ana?”

“I can grab Ana if we need to,” Grimory says, sobering some at the situation. He pulls the bottle away from Alisbeth. “If she’s asleep, I can carry her.”

Koltira shakes his head. “Trust me, I’ll be steadier on my feet. I can carry Ana, you just get her things.” He glances around the room, realizing the tavern is empty, the Worgen’s stein abandoned on the far table. Then it hits him. He points where Alisbeth had just been. “Where did she go?”

The demon hunter glances around as well. “Okay, but what was in the bag? Why do we have to go? Where did…Ali…?”

Deciding the coast is clear, Koltira opens the bag just enough to show Grimory the head of a Vrykul, his face stuck in an angry grimace.

Finally sobering completely for the moment, Grimory takes a step back. “Y-Yeah, let’s get out of here,” he says, voice still laden with alcohol. “Where did she go? We need her, too.”

“Let’s check with Ana, see if she went in there.” Koltira takes the head sack and leaves the tavern.

Grimory follows, abandoning his bottle over the fireplace. “Why would she do something like this?” He stops at the door, grabbing the handle before Koltira has a chance. “We can’t tell Ana. She’ll be furious. We need to make something up.” He pauses and rubs his face with a palm, still struggling to sober up. “After she wakes up, of course.”

A snarl comes from down the hall. Koltira cranes his neck. “When we find her, we’ll—” The yipe of a canine comes from two doors down. His eyes widen. “Shit.”

Grimory pauses and clears his throat. “Y-You go check out that noise. I’ll get Ana and our things.”

He pushes into their assigned room, the apprehension giving him some clarity over his intoxication. He grabs Anarchaia’s rucksack, pulling her robes from the footboard of the bed and stuffing them inside. After scooping the unconscious mage into his arms, he stops to adjust his gait for the added weight, and makes his way back into the hallway.

Koltira finds the door and tests the knob, it opens without issue. He takes a step back as the Worgen from the tavern snarls and scratches at the floor; Alisbeth’s arms and legs are wrapped around him, trying to subdue him.

“Ali, stop!”

She takes the Worgen’s upper and lower jaws in each hand and pulls until the lower jaw snaps and the Worgen cries out in a shrill yelp.

Koltira enters the room and closes the door. “I said stop! What are you doing?”

Alisbeth grabs a dagger from the Worgen’s belongings and slices open its throat, blood sprays up to coat her face and she gives Koltira a triumphant grin. “You asked if there were witnesses. He was a witness. I was taking care of it for you!”

The familiar noise of pain and spilling blood come from behind one of the doors as he passes, but the demon hunter decides against involving himself and instead exits the inn into the night outside.

“We have to go, now,” Koltira growls as he pulls Alisbeth to her feet.

“But Arabia is sick!”

“Too bad, you’ve forced our hand.” He wraps the bleeding neck of the Worgen, grabs his things, and cleans up the room as best he can in the short time. “Get our things,” he hisses as he wraps the Worgen’s corpse in a sheet and throws it over his shoulder.

Alisbeth runs to their room and grabs their bags. With a smile, she digs out some extra gold and sets it on the small table.

“What are you doing?” Koltira hisses.

“Paying for the room!” She runs down the hall and holds the door open for him, keeping her eyes peeled. Once she’s sure it’s clear, she follows him out into the night.

Grimory eyes the two as they join him on the road, furrowing his brow at the sight of the swaddled corpse. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

Alisbeth smiles and skips cheerily to his side. “But that would be lying!”

Koltira purses his lips. “You got Ana all right?”

The demon hunter redistributes Anarchaia’s weight in his arms to hold her more securely. “Yeah. What are you planning on doing with that?” He cocks his head in the direction down the road, gesturing for them to follow.

“I’m going to ditch it over the next cliff. Ana’s map would be handy. I’m sure we’ll find one soon. Maybe.”

Alisbeth bounces on the balls of her feet. “Oh! Can I throw it? Can I carry it?” She doesn’t wait, but drops their packs and pulls the Worgen into her arms and slings him over a shoulder. She hums happily and begins skipping away, then turns to them. “Well, come on!”

“If you wait, or if you can wake her up, Ana can burn it,” Grimory grumbles, following to catch up with Alisbeth. “The less evidence the better I’d think.”

“On the bright side—if you can call it that—he doesn’t seem to have been anyone important. I don’t think people will miss him,” Koltira says from behind, where he’s going through the Worgen’s pack as he walks.

“Everyone has family somewhere,” Grimory grunts. “I suppose I could burn it, too.” He scrunches his face at the scent memory of burning hair and flesh.

“Burning would be pretty,” Alisbeth says with a smile. Thoughts sparkle in her eyes and she purses her lips.

“Whatever we do,” Koltira says, “we need to stay off the roads and do it soon, while most of the world is sleeping.”

Grimory glances down at the sleeping girl in his arms and contemplates waking her. He stops and addresses Koltira. “You take Ana. Ali, give me the…thing. I’ll take it into the woods and take care of it.”

Koltira adjusts the many packs he holds and takes Anarchaia in his arms.

Alisbeth tightens her grip on the Worgen corpse. “It’s  _mine_. Back off.” She backs away from him.

Grimory scowls and takes a step toward her, arms outstretched. “Ali, we have to get rid of it. It’s important. Come on.”

Alisbeth backs away faster. “Don’t you touch it! It’s mine!” She spins and takes off running into the trees.

“A—” Koltira lurches, then stops, checking to make sure Anarchaia is still unconscious.

Grimory sighs. Flesh creaks and stretches as wings of bone and sinew extend from his shoulder blades. “I’ll get her. Either keep walking or find some place safe to sit, but stick close to the path so we can find you again.” He runs a hand over his face before leaping into the air, soaring off above the trees to follow Alisbeth and the corpse.

Koltira nods and continues on the path, figuring he hasn’t got anything but a sick girl in his hands, so there’s no reason for anyone to stop him. But just in case, he stays near the tree line.

Alisbeth purses her lips and runs faster with determination after seeing the demon hunter take flight. “Not today, Gargoyle. It’s mine.”

Grimory sucks his teeth in irritation upon seeing Alisbeth increase her pace. “Ali, stop!” he calls down in a hushed yell as not to draw any more attention than they already may have. After struggling to catch her between the branches of the canopy below, he gives in and falls back to the ground below, hovering for a moment before retracting his wings back into his body. He takes off after her, only yards behind. “Ali, please! This is ridiculous! Be reasonable… _for once!_ ”

“I’m not letting you burn it!” she shouts over her shoulder.

“Why not?!” he barks back. “Do you know how much trouble we’ll all be in if someone finds out?”

Alisbeth turns to stare at him just long enough for the toe of her boot to get caught in a tree root. She crashes to the ground; the corpse rolls away from her. She scrambles toward it. “I just want one thing and you can have the rest!”

Grimory scrambles to run forward and skid to his knees. Knowing he can’t reach the body before she does, he grabs Alisbeth by the ankle. “Ali, no! Anything left over is evidence of what you did!” He pulls as hard as he can on her leg and swallows, thinking quickly. “If I let you have it, you may not see me or Ana anymore. Is that what you want?”

Alisbeth stops struggling and lets Grimory pull her to him. She sits up and frowns. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Gatsby.” She throws her arms over his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. “Don’t make me go back to Acherus. I don’t want to die.”

Grimory pauses, not expecting her to be so easily swayed. After a moment, he returns the hug with a sigh of relief. “No one’s going to take you, okay? Not as long as you let me get rid of that and you  _stop doing this_.” He furrows his brow. “And it’s Grimory.”

Alisbeth nods. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’ll try my hardest, Grimoire.”

Grimory suddenly feels guilty for a reason he can’t pinpoint and gives Alisbeth a tighter hug. “It’s okay.” He pulls away, and holds her by the shoulders. He looks into her eyes. “I need you to go back to Koltira, okay?”

Alisbeth sniffs and tries to hide the tears trying to come to her eyes. “Okay.” She wipes her face on the leather palm of her glove. “Where is he?”

Grimory visibly grimaces and pulls her back into an embrace. “No no no, don’t cry. It’s fine. Really, I’m not mad. It’s okay. Okay?”

Alisbeth whimpers. “Don’t tell me not to cry ‘cause then I just cry harder,” she says as tears force themselves from her eyes. “I just really like you and Artemisia and I don’t want you to stop being my friend. Can we stay friends, please?”

Grimory nods, gritting his teeth behind his lips. “Yeah, of course we can. Why wouldn’t we be?” He stands and pulls her to her feet by her hands. “Can you find your way back? Or do you want to sit here and wait?”

Alisbeth nods and smiles at him. Instead of answering his question, she goes up on her tip toes and presses her lips to his.

The Illidari flinches—again, taken by surprise by her actions. The little alcohol left in his system makes him linger for a long moment before he regains his senses and pulls away, grasping her by the shoulders and simply staring, words failing him completely. “I-I… Uhm.”

She stares blankly at him for a long beat, then takes off into the trees.

He blinks in her wake—confusion visible in his face—then shakes his head and turns back to the wrapped Worgen corpse just feet from him. He sighs and scratches at the nape of his neck. “Well… Hope she knows where she’s going.” Taking a step toward the body, he inhales deeply. The surrounding trees light up with the green of fel fire. Arms folded, Grimory waits to assess his work.

Alisbeth finds her way to the road, then stands in place staring up and down the way. She rolls her eyes at what she’d just done, then kicks herself in the leg.

The sound of metal banging on metal catches Koltira’s attention. He weaves back to the road and back tracks. “Ali, good. Come on, we have to keep moving.”

She forces a laugh. “Yeah. More walking. Yay.”

After ensuring the body is well blackened and the fire is put out, Grimory finds his way back to the path. He jogs down the direction they’d been traveling until, eventually, catching up with the other three. Sighing in relief, he takes a moment to catch his breath again. “All right. All good. Nothing to worry about.” He holds out his arms to Koltira. “I can take her off your hands again.”

Koltira purses his lips at the Forsaken in his arms. Her unconscious state worrying him, though he can’t share his concern with the others. “Keep an eye on her. I think she’s sicker than we thought.” He settles her into the demon hunter’s arms. Slinging Alisbeth’s pack from his shoulder, he helps her into it like a coat. “Thank you for letting him take care of that.” He kisses her temple and takes her hand as they continue on.


	22. Chapter 22

Talonrest comes into view hours later, just as the sun crests the tree line. Grimory saunters along behind the death knights, his wear and lack of sleep obvious in his demeanor and speed. Multiple times he readjusts Anarchaia within his arms—despite usually having little trouble carrying things many times her weight. He groans when he sees the small camp consisting of a single tent and one shelter. “Is that Talonrest? Please tell me it’s not. Someone grab the map from Ana’s bag.”

Koltira searches through Anarchaia’s rucksack. He traces their path with a finger and frowns. “That’s Talonrest.”

Grimory’s head tilts dramatically to the side and he sighs again. “ _Ugh_. Do you think whoever lives in that tent will let us sit a while? I really need to sit…horizontally…with my eyes closed.” He glances down at Anarchaia and frowns. “And I’d rather not wake her just so she can conjure the tent. I’ll sleep on a jagged rock at this point. I really will.”

“Only one way to find out,” Koltira says.

As the party approaches the tent, a Tauren woman greets them warmly and looks up from her morning chores. “Good morning, travelers,” she says, her beaded braids swaying as she stands. “You look weary.” She regards Grimory in particular.

“Very,” the demon hunter says in return. “We have a sick friend. You wouldn’t happen to have room for us for a short while? We can pay.”

The woman chuckles, her chocolate eyes bright. “Our camp is fairly humble, but we always have room for those in need. Come, sit by the fire. Lie your tired or sick in my tent and I’ll see to them.”

Koltira hands his pack to Alisbeth.

She drops down by the fire and smiles at him.

He holds out his arms to Grimory. “You go rest, I’ll take over with Ana.”

“Yeah.” Grimory hands over the sleeping mage without a second thought or word, his tired brain thinking of nothing but rest. He lets the cheery Tauren woman guide him to a clean mat made of tanned hide, thanks her profusely, and lies down.

The Tauren chuckles to herself and steps back outside to resume her chores. “It appears tea is in order. Do any of you have a preference?”

“Do you have anything minty or spicy?” Alisbeth asks.

Koltira shakes his head. “I’m fine. But thank you for your hospitality. Right in here okay?” he asks, indicating setting Anarchaia on the second mat.

“I can make something that’s both if you like,” she responds with a grin, then nods to Koltira. “Yes. Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be in in a moment—have to get the water boiling.”

After cautiously checking to ensure Grimory is asleep, Koltira lays Anarchaia on the mat. He purses his lips, wanting to check under her mask to make sure she’s okay. Instead he sighs and decides to respect her privacy.

“I like your camp,” Alisbeth says with a big grin. “It’s cozy.”

“It does us good, yes. We don’t require much out here,” the woman muses, placing a pot of water over the fire and preparing a few mugs. She gives Alisbeth an endearing grin as if to say she’ll return and ducks into her tent. “So, what seems to be the problem?” she asks Koltira in a hushed voice, three-fingered hands rubbing together.

“She fell ill yesterday and…seems to be asleep or unconscious. Which concerns me since she’s…” He clears his throat and double checks that Alisbeth isn’t listening and the demon hunter is unconscious. “She has a, um, preexisting condition?”

The Tauren chuckles again. “That information would be somewhat useful.” She kneels beside the mage and gives her a once over. “No sweating. No shaking.”

He clears his throat again and says on a barely audible whisper, “She’s Forsaken. She doesn’t sleep. The fact that she’s asleep is what has me worried.”

“Oh. Well, that is a problem,” the woman says, frowning. “Herbal remedies don’t really seem to work on the undead. She could just be resting because it’s all she can do.” She gives Koltira a sad smile. “Sadly I’m not skilled in any sort of healing. All I have are wholistic remedies.”

“Thank you all the same,” Koltira says. “Hopefully she only needs rest.” He stands and goes out to sit beside Alisbeth.

She smiles. “You and Grim got pretty drunk last night.”

Koltira only nods and leans back as the weariness catches up with him.

The woman steps back out into the circle around the fire, pouring hot water into a mug filled with peppers and mint leaves for Alisbeth and one with chamomile for herself. “I’m Kewauna, by the way,” she says, handing Alisbeth her tea. “Excuse my lack of manners.”

“Oh!” Alisbeth bounces on her rear and takes the tea eagerly. “We’ve all been rude. I’m Alisbeth, this is Koltira. Rude-head in there is Gojira and sleeping beauty is Aslan.” She sips her tea and smiles as her lips burn and buzz at the same time.

Koltira laughs. “They’re actually Grimory and Anarchaia. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kewauna.”

The horned woman sits and continues to peel her potatoes. “So, what brings a mage, a demon hunter, and two death knights out this far?” she hums. “Surely it can’t be the weather.”

“We’re on an adventure!” Alisbeth cries in excitement.

Kewauna chuckles at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Every day is an adventure, child. Surely you have greater goals if one of you is ill and yet you press on.” She shrugs. “But it’s none of my business.”

Koltira chuckles. “Orders from the mage’s master in Dalaran.”

The woman hums and nods again. “Orders. Can’t say I’m a fan, but I suppose that’s why I’m here,” she says in her slow, deliberate way. “Not sure if the dead have a need to eat, but can I offer you anything, regardless?”

Both shake their heads. “No thanks,” Alisbeth chirps. “I had a lot of cabbages last night. I like crunchy things.”

“How long have you been out here?” Koltira asks.

Kewauna smiles, throwing the skinned potatoes into a metal basin filled with water. “Oh, I’ve lost track. Perhaps ten years? Didn’t start seeing adventurers like you lot until recently, however. Has something happened?”

“Are you  _kidding_?” Alisbeth squeals. “ _Demons_  fell out of the  _sky!_ ”

The woman raises her eyebrows but continues to peel her vegetables. “Demons, you say? I suppose that  _would_  be cause for some alarm. And you four are aiding in the fight against them I take it?”

“We are,” Koltira says. He smiles and gazes around the area, taking note that except for some wildlife it’s a rather quiet area. With a sigh he tries to imagine that this is where they’re stopping and that it’s their own—just Alisbeth and himself. He closes his eyes, envisioning what it would be like—but then snaps them open again at the imagined sound of a child’s laughter.

The Tauren’s ear flutters as she peels and gives a slow nod. “Hm. How noble. It’s good to see good people like you fighting for what is right. A great sacrifice indeed.”

 

~ * ~

 

The day drew on. Alisbeth lay on the ground for much of the morning, watching the sun move across the sky as Koltira helped Kewauna in various chores around the camp.

Grimory groans as he steps out of the tent, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He gives a glance around the camp and furrows his brow. “Is Ana still out?” he asks. He yawns and sets himself on the ground beside Alisbeth. “Or did she die? She’s pretty motionless in there.”

Alisbeth widens her eyes. “What if she  _did_  die? What would we do? What if—”

“I’ve been checking on her all day,” Koltira says. “She’s still resting.”

“Your friend is fine…in a loose sense of the term,” Keawuna says, pushing a tightly bound bundle of firewood onto the top of the tall pile beneath the shelter. “It appears to be nothing serious.”

“Just looked like a cold to me,” the demon hunter says. “This isn’t the first time she’s slept this long, so I’m sure she’s fine.” He sighs and glances at the sun again, a palm shading his eyes. “We shouldn’t stay much longer, though. The, uh…farther we are from that inn, the better.”

“Pfft.” Alisbeth shakes her head at Grimory. “Much too paranoid for your own good. Sit down. Have some tea. Stop looking like a suspicious character.”

Grimory gives Alisbeth a look. “ _We are suspicious characters,_ ” he hisses under his breath. “You think they haven’t–” he stops himself, remembering the girl’s teary-eyed face from the previous night and growls, turning away. “Regardless.”

“Looking like one doesn’t help,” she snaps back. “Now shut up and drink this wonderful cow’s tea.”

Koltira chuckles as he helps pull a cleaned hide from the drying rack. “Just do what she says, Grim. I’m sure it’ll help calm you down, anyway.”

Grimory backs down, glancing over at Kewauna. “You wouldn’t happen to have any lemongrass back there, would you?”

The Tauren smiles and prepares another kettle over the fire. “I would happen, yes.”

“More travelers?” A large Tauren man covered in black fur steps into the camp, a woven basket under an arm and a chain of fish slung over the other shoulder. “That’s three times this month alone.” He sets the basket beside the tent and affixes the fish to a hook on the shelter. He claps his hands across one another to brush off the dirt, then holds one out to Koltira. “Rusk. My wife is taking good care of you, I trust?”

Koltira takes the offered hand. “Indeed, she is. Thank you both for your hospitality.”

“Bah!” Rusk releases a booming laugh and claps Koltira on the shoulder. “I’ve only just got here! Don’t thank me, yet. Plenty of time to screw things up.” He turns to the group as a whole, fists on his hips. “So what brings the three of you all this way? Surely not the weather.” He laughs again.

“They’re adventurers,” Kewauna says in her quiet voice, smiling as she pours two cups of tea. She hands one to Grimory and the other to her husband. “Out to defeat the demons that fell from the sky.”

“Demons, eh?” He drinks the steaming tea in one gulp and sets the mug atop the wood pile. “Looks like you’ve already got ‘em on your side.” He grins at Grimory, who doesn’t reciprocate.

“I’m…not…” the demon hunter mutters with great restraint.

“Calm down, son, I’m only playing.” Rusk takes a seat beside the fire and warms his gigantic hands.

Alisbeth giggles and flops sideways to lay back down, resting her head on Grimory’s thigh. “He’s not a demon! But he does eat them! He’s a demon eater.”

Koltira closes his eyes and purses his lips, but ultimately decides to let Grimory handle this one.

Grimory’s lips thin to an unimpressed line and he stares blankly at no one in particular. “Sure. Yes.”

Kewauna titters and sets to cleaning the fish. “They brought a sick friend with them. In the tent.”

Rusk hums. “Is it grave?”

“Not seemingly so.”

“Good!” the Tauren man barks. “You all stay as long as you need—until your friend in there either stands again or dies.” He laughs.

Grimory clears his throat, the joke somehow seeming less funny when someone else says it. “Thanks, really. We appreciate the kindness.” He casts a glance down at Alisbeth. “Though, again, we really shouldn’t stay long.”

Alisbeth sticks out her lower lip. “But, do we have to go? I like it here. It’s so peaceful. Don’t you feel it? Like nothing bad could ever happen in this camp.” She smiles and closes her eyes, sighing in contentment.

“We do,” Koltira says. “Once Grimory has recovered we’ll get our things and get out of these nice Tauren’s way.” He smiles at the two in turn.

Grimory lifts his hands and scowls. “I’m all rested.  _So sorry_  to inconvenience you with my  _mortality_.”

Kewauna looks up from her work. “Are you sure you should go on, with your friend’s condition?”

Grimory glances down at Alisbeth patiently, gesturing for her to move so he can stand. “It’ll be okay. We can carry her until she wakes. We’re…kind of on a schedule. It’s what she would want.”

Rusk grunts and gives a helpless shrug. “I mean, we’re in no position to stop you from going, but know that we’re more than willing to accommodate you for a night or two if that’s the problem, here.”

Alisbeth folds her arms over her chest and doesn’t move as she puckers her lips in annoyance at Grimory.

“We’ll be fine, I assure you. She has friends in high places. I’m sure we can arrange for any help we may need, should she not recover.” Koltira leans against a shelter support post.

“Have it your way,” the Tauren man grumbles, grabbing a carrot from the basket of freshly peeled vegetables and taking a bite. “You’re welcome back any time.”

“That’s an invitation I’m sure we’re all eager to accept. It really is beautiful out here.”

Grimory stares down at Alisbeth, unamused. “Don’t make me move you.”

Alisbeth sticks out her tongue in a childish manner and folds her arms over her chest.

He grabs her tongue with a thumb and forefinger, still scowling down at her. “Let me up, Ali.”

“Even a short introduction of new friends is an introduction nonetheless,” Kewauna muses in her dreamy tone, nodding and continuing her cleaning. “We look forward to your next visit. And perhaps we can meet your mage friend the next time.”

“Oo coul hath thaith peath,” Alisbeth says.

Grimory releases her tongue and gives a forced grin. “Please?”

She smacks her lips and sits up. “Your fingers taste like dirt.”

Koltira laughs. “Come get ready, Ali.”

Grimory scrunches his face, her words reminding him that he hasn’t bathed in over a day. He stands and retrieves their bags from the tent.. He returns with the girl in his arms He extends a fistful of coins to Rusk. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”

“We’ve no need for money out here, boy,” Rusk responds, gently pushing Grimory’s hand away. “Knowing we’ve done good to help is payment enough.”

“Thank you so much for your help, today,” Kewauna hums to Koltira. “Please, do take care of yourselves.”

“Aww,” Alisbeth pouts, “I could have given you a nice pelt as thanks, but Gator blew it up.” She digs through her pack and finds two candy canes. “Here! Thank you! Happy Winter Veil.”

Koltira sighs and ignores trying, once again, to remind her that it hasn’t been Winter Veil for months. He instead smiles at the Tauren woman. “It was my pleasure. Nice busy work. Thank you again for putting us up for the day.”

The Tauren couple wave as the group makes their way back to the path heading east.

“Our best bet is to maybe find another inn,” Grimory explains. “With a healer.” He chews at the inside of his lower lip. “Or some means to get ahold of…” He shakes his head after a moment, willing the thought away. “Or just wake her, I guess. I mean, she can’t be  _that_  sick…”

Koltira raises an eyebrow at the demon hunter. “Oh, yes, just wake her. How do you propose we do that if all this jostling around hasn’t worked yet?”

“Oh! We could shake her more violently. Just take her shoulders and—” she takes Koltira by the shoulders and starts shaking him, thrashing her whole body melodramatically. “ _Wake up Able! Blaralargarblar!_ ”

Koltira shakes her from him and narrows one eye. “If you could avoid doing that to  _me_ , that would be fantastic.” He peeks over at Anarchaia. “Okay, so, get a hold of who? Her master?”

Grimory bites back a laugh at Alisbeth, snorting through his nose. “I dunno, it was just a thought. No need to be so moody.” He shoots Koltira a sideways glance. “And we don’t need his help. I can easily care for her. I’ve done it before.” _Granted, she wasn’t ill last time, but still_ , he thinks to himself, pulling the mage close.

Koltira shoots the Illidari an unamused scowl. “I’m not moody.”  _Just concerned about a dead person acting more dead than usual._  “And please, enlighten the rest of us on how you ‘handled’ it last time besides just letting her lay there for days?”

“I-…” Grimory huffs and looks away. “I made sure she was safe. It was all I  _could_  do.”

Alisbeth smiles kindly. “I think it counts. And I bet she was happy to have you watching her sleep like some creep. Except you weren’t being a creep! But it’s still creepy.”

Grimory turns his head to look at Alisbeth with a confused smirk. “Says the girl who was watching me sleep two nights ago.”

“That’s different,” she chirps. “You  _let_  me do that.”

“You think Ana wouldn’t ‘let me’ watch over her while she… You know what? Never mind.”


	23. Chapter 23

Grimory glances up at the sky and sighs. He eyes a couple of goblins as they pass going the opposite direction, their golden eyes and studded leather armor glinting in the setting sunlight. He gives them no second thought and trudges on.

“Your armor is shiny!” Alisbeth exclaims and strokes a goblin’s pauldron. “I like it!”

Without a word he slaps her hand away, glares up at her, and continues down the road.

Alisbeth frowns and stomps to her companions. “That was rude. I really want to kill them. Can I kill them?”

“Please don’t kill anyone else, Ali,” Grimory groans. _If you hadn’t the first time we’d still be at the cozy inn with hot water, booze, and beds._ “We don’t need any more trouble. Remember what I told you?”

Alisbeth frowns and stares at the ground, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Grimory is right,” Koltira says. “Let’s keep going. Hopefully Ana will wake up soon…probably to yell at us for going the wrong way or something.”

“Who’s going the wrong way…?” Anarchaia mumbles, lifting her head from Grimory’s shoulder and sniffling.

The Illidari stops and looks down at her in surprise. “You’re awake! Are you okay? You had us worried sick.” He sets her on her feet when she pushes away from him.

“I’m fine, I just…fell asleep. Sorry.” The mage glances around in confusion. “Where are we?”

“You’re not dead!” Alisbeth leaps to Anarchaia and picks her up in a huge hug.

“We just left Talonrest,” Koltira replies.

Anarchaia whimpers as her insides are crushed. “Why?” she manages to squeak, attempting to break free from Alisbeth’s arms.

“We just…figured you didn’t want to waste time. So, we continued on, since you didn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon.” Grimory folds his arms over his chest and kicks at the dirt as if uninterested.

Alisbeth releases her and nods emphatically. “That’s one hundred percent the only reason we left. Yep. Thought you’d want for us to press on in your memory.”

Koltira purses his lips. “Are you okay? You had me worried. You…you slept like the dead.” He gives her a significant look, hoping she catches onto his meaning.

Anarchaia eyes the three suspiciously, then regards Koltira. “I don’t sleep…often. So when I do it’s usually for a long time. Sometimes a week or more.” Sniffling again, she motions for Grimory to give her her bag. “Sorry to worry you. I’m okay.” She clears her throat and pulls out the map. “Most certainly _not_ dead.”

“So, how much farther do we have?” Koltira asks, looking at the map over her shoulder.

Anarchaia traces a finger over their path for him. “Once we hit Valdisdall, it’s a straight shot to the Halls of Valor where Odyn resides…supposedly.” She rolls the map back up and stows it away, then coughs into a fist. “From there it’s wherever he wants us to go.”

Koltira shrugs. “Well, that seems fun. Let’s get going, shall we?”

Anarchaia agrees and pulls her robes from her bag, throwing them over her head as she walks. “So, uh…what did I miss?”

“Nothing much. Met a nice Tauren couple at Talonrest,” Grimory responds, fingers locked together behind his head. “Very hospitable.”

“I ate a cabbage and got yelled at by a farmer and those two got stupid drunk,” Alisbeth says. She skips along beside the group, taking in the scenery.

The mage chuckles. “Oh, did you?” She then turns to the two men and raises her eyebrows beneath her mask. “Oh, did they?” She pulls her mask up and resists a sneeze. “So, no scars this time, I pray?”

Koltira glances sideways at Grimory. “None that you can see.” His lips turn up in a sly smile.

Grimory responds with a brief laugh but otherwise admits to nothing.

“Good, because I have no means of healing you. Well, Grim, anyway. Clearly you two can handle yourselves.” Anarchaia gestures to Alisbeth and Koltira before breaking into a fit of coughing. She inhales shakily after recovering. “So, frankly, I’m happy you’ve decided to get along.”

Alisbeth runs ahead of the group to the covered wooden bridge. She leans over the side and shouts, “ _ECHO!_ ” Her voice bounces from the cliffs surrounding the river and she giggles, then makes more noises to hear them bounce back at her.

Anarchaia joins her at the railing with a chuckle and takes in the view. “They say the number of times your voice echoes determines your future.” She smiles over at Alisbeth. “And how long it takes to answer determines how long you’ll live.”

“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit,” Grimory muses behind them, looking out over the cliffs and into the thick mist in the distance.

“Is that in seconds or minutes? Because I don’t think any of us follow that superstition.” Koltira stands in the middle of the bridge, avoiding looking over the side.

Alisbeth furrows her brow and cocks her head. “So, I shouldn’t have an echo? ‘Cause I’m not exactly alive. How does the number determine my future? Number of people I’m going to kill today? Number of friends I’ll have? Number of chil-...family members?” She frowns. “My family is all dead. I don’t like this game anymore.” She backs away from the railing and glares at it as though it had betrayed her.

Anarchaia smiles blankly over the railing, slowly getting used to the fact that everything she’ll ever say will be taken seriously. “Yes,” she eventually blurts with no real conviction, sniffling and turning back toward the opposite end of the bridge. She resumes walking. “Let’s…just go.”

Grimory chuckles worriedly down at Alisbeth. “She wasn’t being serious, Ali. No use in fretting over it.”

The death knight shifts in discomfort. “But I want to know what it means.”

Koltira takes her hand and pulls her along. “I’m sure it just means you’ll get to spend a long undead life with me.”

Her lips twitch as she tries not to smile. “Okay…I guess…”

Anarchaia’s quill and parchment materialize beside her as she walks, glowing with purple light in the shadows of the bridge’s covering. She sneezes into the crook of her elbow. “This bridge feels a lot longer than it appears on the map.”

Grimory laughs beside her. “Is it too much? Do you need me to carry you again?”

The mage folds her arms and gives him a look. “Why? Did you want to?”

The demon hunter shrugs and grins. “I mean, you weigh almost nothing. It’d really make no differen—” He nearly stumbles completely to the planks below as the girl’s foot kicks at his ankle. He laughs again. “You can’t even trip me properly. You’re clearly very sick.”

The chords in Anarchaia’s neck protrude. “You’re testing my—” Another sneeze. “—patience.”

Alisbeth growls. “ _Clearly_ she doesn’t want to be _manhandled_.” Without a second thought, she scoops Anarchaia up to sit her on one shoulder like a child. “Nothing wrong with a little _woman_ -handling, though!”

Anarchaia gives a brief noise of surprise a she’s lifted, then can’t help but chortle. “This really isn’t necessary, Ali. Heh.”

A trio of men wait at the end of the bridge, arms folded as they lean against a support beam. One twirls a dagger around a finger.

“Bridge toll,” a tall Night Elf man grunts, stepping out to cut them off.

Anarchaia blinks from atop Alisbeth’s shoulder. “Toll? For whom?”

“The land,” responds the human twirling his dagger. “Two hundred gold.”

Grimory gives a laugh. “How about zero gold and we be on our merry way?”

The second Night Elf man moves away from his place against the post. “Or how about two hundred and we let you live?”

“We have you outnumbered,” Grimory says with a confused grin. “You can’t be serious.”

“Two men, a lady, and whatever that is on her shoulder? I’d think not,” replies the human, the dagger stopping within his palm.

Alisbeth smiles. “Are you guys joking? You’re joking.” She giggles and leans her head on Anarchaia’s thigh. “Gallop is right. I have you out-numbered. Even if I didn’t activate my shoulder cannon.” She pats Anarchaia’s leg.

The trio laughs at her. “Step aside, little girl. The men are talking.”

Koltira clears his throat to disguise his laugh. “Things to _not_ say to her.”

Alisbeth’s smile drops and she glowers at the men. “Take it back.”

“Take it back, eh?” the taller Night Elf man muses with a grin, stepping to loom over Alisbeth. “What are you gonna do about it, lassie?”

“Look, _gentlemen_ ,” Anarchaia says in her calmest voice. “There’s an impasse here that you three clearly haven’t noticed. No one needs to be hurt if you simply let us go.”

“Or how about the ladies stay and you gents can leave,” the human laughs.

Grimory bristles and glares. “Or how about you just step aside and we don’t smash your skulls in?”

Alisbeth giggles again. “I’ll stay! All _three_ of my friends can go if I stay, right?”

Koltira laughs quietly. “Now, I know you’re not asking them to allow a mere woman to stay behind all by herself,” he says to her.

She scrunches her face into an evil smile. “I want to have some fun.”

“Eh…I’d rather we didn’t hurt anybody,” Anarchaia mumbles, clearing her throat and hopping down from Alisbeth’s shoulder.

“Oh, come on, Ana,” Grimory says, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s keep these guys from scamming other people. That’s a good cause, isn’t it?”

“Scamming?” The tall Night Elf laughs. “We’re running a business, here.”

Anarchaia groans. “I’m honestly tempted to just pay them…”

“Who said anything about _hurting_ ,” Alisbeth says. She pulls her axe from her back and smiles at the skull on it. “We can make this as painless or painful as they force us to. Isn’t that right my little Maw. Yeeees, such a good Maw. You’re a hungry baby, aren’t you?”

Koltira raises an eyebrow at the men, who have taken a step back from the blithering death knight. “Are you sure you _gents_ don’t have better things to do?”

The trio of bandits throw apprehensive glances among themselves. “I suppose we can let you off easy this time,” the human says through his auburn facial hair, eyeing Alisbeth and her crazed grin.

“Oh please, Geryld, don’t be a pussy,” the tall Night Elf growls, pulling a short sword from his belt and tossing it between his hands. “We’ve taken four at once before.”

Anarchaia shrinks back, her lips tightening into a nervous frown.

“Yeah, _Geryld_ , don’t be a pussy,” Grimory echoes, claws morphing and at the ready. “Looks like it’ll just be three-on-three anyway. Afraid of a fair fight?”

“You know,” Koltira says, “I’m a little tired. I think I’ll sit this one out. Make the fight a little more fair for you three.” He signals for Anarchaia to stand behind him as he withdraws Byfrost, just to be ready.

Alisbeth laughs long and low, a manic smile spreading across her lips. She extends her tongue and licks one of the spikes of her axe. Blood trails down the blade. She pulls away, her lips and chin red with the blood from her tongue. Her hand stretches out and she points at the tall Night Elf. “You. I want to play with you. And when I’m done I’m gonna put your head in my box with the others. Because you have a pretty head.” She takes slow steps toward him, speaking like they’re best friends. “And sometimes I’ll pull you out and I’ll braid your hair and we’ll have so much _fun!_ ” She swings her axe around to slash at his belly.

The Night Elf man, having been distracted by Alisbeth’s ramblings, cries out in pain and leaps back lest she strike again. Blood seeps into the dense quilted tunic he wears. Cringing, he lunges forward, slashing at the girl’s throat.

Grimory lunges as well, huge claws sweeping wildly at the midsection of the second elf while he simultaneously avoids the human.

Anarchaia fidgets behind Koltira, chewing on her lower lip and avoiding looking at the tussle altogether. “You don’t have to protect me. I just…don’t want to be involved.” She clears her irritated throat.

Koltira smirks as he watches Alisbeth dodge easily away from the elf before spinning around him to flip his hair up. “Oh, am I protecting you? I thought I was just getting in line for anyone who decides they want to try for an easy target.”

Alisbeth leaps back in front of the elf, jabbing with her axe to poke him in the pectoral with the topmost spike.

The Night Elf grits his teeth as the spike tears through his flesh. He pushes himself away from the axe, blood trailing through the air from his injury. Considerably wounded, he makes another attempt at Alisbeth’s throat, hoping to leave some sort of lasting damage.

A fang-filled grin spread across his face, Grimory ducks out of the way of a dagger. He rakes his claws across the throat of the smaller Night Elf. Grimory pulls back as the man grabs his neck and drops to his knees.

“I don’t—” Anarchaia stops short at the sound of gurgling. Tears instantly spring to her functional eye and she turns around, pulling her hood around her head to cover her ears. She bites her lip and closes her eyes tight. “Let me know when it’s over.”

Koltira wraps a comforting arm around Anarchaia. “Describe something to me. Anything.”

Alisbeth leans back then shrieks as the tip of the sword slices a long gash into her jaw. Her eyes wide, she leaps at him, tackling him to the ground. “That wasn’t nice!” she screams. She takes his sword hand and pins it to the ground, swinging her axe around to take off his arm at the elbow.

The other death knight grits his teeth and flexes his fist tighter around Byfrost, but remains with the mage, knowing Alisbeth can more than take care of herself.

“I-I…” Anarchaia cringes as more sounds of slicing and screaming echo down the length of the covered bridge. With them come images of her basement, a cleaver, and her father. “I’ll meet you guys in Valdisdall!” she blurts quickly, disappearing in a flash of sparkles and reappearing on the path ahead, running for the plateau.

Grimory turns on the human, who steps back. He slashes at him, but Geryld nimbly dodges and holds up his hands.

“I yield!” he cries, but is instead met with claws to his forearms instead of mercy.

The Night Elf below Alisbeth makes to push her off him with a blow to her face, but his strike is weakened as her axe tears through his arm. He screams in agony and grabs his sword with the opposite hand, then attempts to aim blows at her face with the handle since the blade is too long.

Alisbeth grips the elf’s other wrist and swings her axe to cut his arm off at the shoulder. He screams out and she presses her hand to his chest, pushing down harder and harder until he’s panting.

“You’re supposed to play nice,” she whispers in his ear. She punctures the skin just above the opening, then runs the spike slowly up his ear to cut it in two. His screams come as whines as she pushes harder again, smiling as his ribs creak under her palm. “Do you like playing with me?”

Koltira stares up the path to make sure Anarchaia makes it through okay, then turns his sights on the others. He approaches slowly, unsure if getting involved is the right course of action.

“I yielded!” the human cries, stepping back again and struggling to hold his bleeding arms.

“I’m not letting you go without some scars,” Grimory sneers. Pain tears through his shoulder as the second Night Elf’s dagger pierces the muscle. He turns and rips it from his back.

The smaller Night Elf gives a bloody smirk from the ground, then chokes as his own dagger is thrust into his chest. He flinches once, then lies motionless in the dirt.

Alisbeth hums a sweet tune as she traces lines down the Kaldorei’s face. She smiles and takes her time with each doodle carved into his skin with the spike of her axe. “You’re going to look so pretty when I’m done!”

Koltira grits his teeth. He brings the human to him with a shadowy purple tendril, then immediately slams his head against the side of the bridge to knock him unconscious.

He purses his lips at Grimory. “He yielded.” He then walks over and yanks Alisbeth up by the back of her armor; she flails in his grasp. He swings Byfrost over his head and brings it down on the elf’s neck, completely severing the head.

Alisbeth kicks at her husband and screams angrily. “I was playing with him, you asshole! We were having fun! Look how pretty I was making him!”

He ignores her attacks and goes to Grimory, pushing against the demon hunter’s back with his fist. “Let’s go.”

“I wasn’t gonna kill ‘im,” Grimory grumbles, rubbing at his wound to assess the damage. He raises his eyebrows at Alisbeth’s handiwork, whistling as he’s pushed. “Nice, Ali,” he chuckles. “Clean cut. That axe must be sharp.”

Koltira lets Alisbeth down and she hugs her bloodied axe to her chest. “It’s _very_ sharp. I love this axe.” She maneuvers to walk behind Grimory. “You’re hurt.” Alisbeth removes her gauntlet and starts drawing on Grimory’s back using his own blood as paint.

“I’m fine,” the demon hunter reassures Alisbeth. “Just a scratch.” He glances around as he walks, scowling. “Where’d Ana go? Don’t tell me she ran off again.” He _tsk_ s. “Such a coward.”

“Ana seemed really upset,” the death knight says. “She said she’d meet us ahead. In Val-Vali…Valstad…the place up ahead.”

He sucks his teeth again at Koltira’s words and rolls his emerald eyes. “She always does this. All that power and she doesn’t use any of it. What a waste.”

When they finally reach the busy encampment of Valdisdall, the sun is cutting through the dense fog over the ocean on the horizon. They’re forced to weave their way through the many adventurers and traders doing business outside the single inn.

Grimory opens the door for the death knights and glances around the equally busy tavern. “I don’t— Oh, there she is.” He gestures over to Anarchaia sitting alone in a corner, her map and a chilled copper mug in front of her. “I’m gonna check to see if she got rooms yet.” He pauses. “If there even are any.”

A few blood smeared travelers pass, counting coin from what can only be assumed was earned while killing animals for fur. Koltira sighs as he looks down at the blood-spattered Alisbeth. “At least you won’t draw any attention. You do need a shower, though.”

She smiles. “A shower would be nice. Or a bath with oils and I can just lay there and relax and pretend I’m a corpse.”

He opens his mouth to comment on her strange idea of relaxation, but decides to say nothing instead.

After securing two rooms, Grimory pushes himself through the crowd to settle across from Anarchaia. “Ana, what the hell? Why did you run?”

The mage doesn’t look up from her map. She takes a shaky sip of her drink. “I don’t like to fight,” she responds quietly. “You know that.” She glances at his shoulder and the red, angry wound. “You should go get that cleaned up. I hear this place has running water.”

The demon hunter scowls. “I wouldn’t have it if you’d done something other than run off.”

Koltira drops into the seat beside Grimory. “Lucky you, grabbing the last two rooms.”

“We’re going to spend the night under the stars,” Alisbeth says wistfully. She leans against the wall and stares down at the doodles she’d made on Grimory’s back.

“You both can have one,” Grimory grumbles, abandoning his confrontation with Anarchaia when he gets no response. “My sleep schedule’s all off anyway. I’ll probably be up all night.” He hails a barmaid to order food and drink, sticking to light ale.

“I won’t need one,” Anarchaia mumbles, rolling the map back up and sniffling. “I suppose we didn’t even need them, then. We’re just here for the baths and drink.”

Alisbeth frowns with thought. She nudges Grimory’s thigh with her toe. “Probably a good idea to shower early, before everyone starts crowding in right before bed.”

Koltira keeps his head down to avoid adding fuel to any fires that are starting between Anarchaia and Grimory.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” Anarchaia snaps in Grimory’s direction, mouth curved into a serious frown.

Grimory glances from Alisbeth’s foot to Anarchaia’s cold face. He stands, scoffing at her. “Never mind,” he mutters to the barmaid patiently waiting to take his order. He makes his way for the staircase.

Alisbeth smiles at the two still at the table and skips off behind Grimory. “So, showers are fun and all, but…” She glances into the tavern to make sure neither of the other two are looking, then leaps across the doorway as though the floor were a chasm. “I’m gonna have me some _real_ fun.” She winks at the demon hunter and makes her way to the front door.

Grimory blinks down at her, brow furrowed in confusion. He glances at the two back at the table as she had, then follows out of sheer curiosity. “What kind of fun did you have in mind?” he says when he catches up.

Alisbeth pushes outside and shoulders her axe. She grins back at the Illidari. “Well, by my count, there were three guys at the bridge and two of us wanting a crack at them. Only one of us got their satisfaction.”

Grimory stops. The human’s smug face flickers through his mind. A smirk spreads across his lips and he follows. “Right behind you.”

Alisbeth takes Grimory by the hand and pulls him to run. “Let’s go!”


	24. Chapter 24

Grimory gives a laugh at Alisbeth’s enthusiasm and follows closely behind. When they reach the bridge, the bodies are gone but a trail of red leads from where they’d fallen into the pine trees. “Guess he wasn’t out for long. Your husband was too soft on him,” Grimory chuckles.

“He just believes in honorable combat. I believe in people dying when they deserve it.” She follows the trail into the trees and starts humming a small tune.

“Amen to that,” Grimory responds, a flurry of fel fire spiraling around his forearms as they mutate. He pushes into the brush and scowls at how little light there is under the trees. “He can’t have gone far. We weren’t gone long.”

Alisbeth stops and squints into the trees. She puts her finger to her lips and begins stripping off her armor. Once finished, she sets her axe across her shoulders and creeps forward, then climbs up into a tree. After a moment she leaps down in front of the dark figure. “Hi again!”

Geryld cries out in surprise and quickly pulls his two daggers to the ready. “You again!” he growls, then nearly stumbles as he backs into a large object behind him.

“Us again,” Grimory says as the man turns around.

“You’ve killed my friends,” the human shouts, gesturing to the two corpses below the tree. “What more do you want?!”

Alisbeth reaches out her hand and flicks the human in the ear. “I want to _play_.”

The man flinches and turns, slashing blindly with his daggers. “Well I don’t! You lot’ve made your point! Leave me be!”

“I don’t think we’ve quite made our point just yet,” Grimory says with a grin, stepping toward him. “Have we, Ali?”

Alisbeth jumps back away from the swinging blades. She takes her axe from her back and thumps the human on the forehead with the forehead of the skull on the side. “I have many points,” she says, pulling the Maw close to her face. “See? One, two, three,” she taps each tip along the right, “four, five, six,” she taps the three on the left, “and three liiiiittle ones right here.” She slips the axe top first under his chin and scrapes the skin beneath his jaw with the three spikes at the top. “I have many more points, but I like these ones the most. Don’t you?”

The human swallows, the lump in his throat bumping against the point of her axe. “What do you want?” he says quietly as his eyes frantically flick between the two. “Just take whatever it is you desire and leave me be.”

Grimory settles beside Alisbeth and rests an arm on her shoulder and a fist against his hip. “Just want to talk,” he responds. “Violently.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes at Grimory. “Talking? I didn’t want to do any talking. I wanted to play! I was playing with your friend—the one in four pieces—and Koltira took him away before I was done. So I want to play with _you_.”

Grimory shrugs. “A _violent talk_.” He lifts a foot and kicks the man hard in the core, causing him to fall back into the dirt.

The human growls in pain and props himself up on his elbows, scrambling to ready his daggers once more, despite being on the ground. He slowly stands again, deciding he’s going to go out fighting. “Fine,” he barks. “Let’s play.”

Alisbeth slashes at the man’s right hand with her axe. His fist disconnects from his wrist and drops to the ground with a small thud.

“You bitch!” he screams.

Alisbeth stoops and picks up the hand and dagger together, using her own fingers to keep the others gripping to the handle. She points the dagger at him and smiles like she would to a child. “Uh-uhh. That’s not a nice word.”

Grimory lifts his eyebrows and chuckles. “My turn.” He lunges forward, slashing at the man’s chest. Blood and bits of cloth fly and the human somehow manages to plant his only dagger into the Blood Elf’s side before falling back into the dirt. Grimory grunts as he pulls the blade free. “Thanks for the dagger.”

Alisbeth squeals with delight. “Now we both have one! What should we do? Oh! Lets cut off his ears at the same time and see which side hurts more! Oh! Oh! Let’s have a carving competition. I get the right half, you can have the left. Winner gets his head!” She drops down to straddle the man, sitting on his groin with her palm on his chest. She casts a quick glance between her thighs. “Not even a little excited?”

Grimory laughs and tosses the dagger between his hands. “I dunno. I kinda wanna see what you can do. You’re so excited, I’d hate to take your toy away.”

The human scowls up at Alisbeth, breathing heavily in pain and fear. He finally spits into her face and laughs. “Just get it over with, girl. Or would you rather wait for your man over there to show you how it’s done?”

“Aww! He thinks you’re my man! That’s adorable.” Alisbeth grins up at Grimory, then turns her smile on the human. “Let me show you what I did to horns over there. ‘Kay?” She rips open his shirt and sets the tip of the dagger on his ribs. “I think I started…here? Or was it here?” She looks at the demon hunter. “Do you remember?”

Grimory furrows his brow at the word _adorable_ , but shrugs it off. “On the side, just below the arm and a few inches lower,” he responds, inspecting the blade in his hand in the filtering moonlight and leaning against a tree. “I suggest not making this one as shallow.”

Alisbeth points the dagger at the demon hunter. “Yes. That’s _right_. The first ones I was being nice. But then you _nnnggg—_ ” The death knight stops as though frozen, her eyes closed and her teeth biting into her lower lip. “And you made my hand slip.” She giggles at the memory.

Without warning the death knight clamps her mouth shut and glares at the human as she drags the dagger along the side of his torso. The human screams out and she takes his removed hand from around the dagger and slaps him across the cheek with it.

“No. You have to be quiet. Right Garby? _Quiet_ ,” she whispers and presses the index finger of Geryld’s hand to her lips. “The more you scream, the more it hurts.” She slices him again and observes the line.

The human screams in pain. “You’re fucking insane!” He turns his attention to Grimory. “Get your woman off me!”

Grimory gives a helpless shrug. “I would, but she’s not my woman. Pretty sure she told you that already.” He scoffs. “Besides, weren’t you the one who wanted her to _stay behind_ back at the bridge?”

Alisbeth sneers at him. “I’m not insane,” she whispers. The death knight shoves the man’s hand into his mouth until the fingers gag him. She hums a sweet tune and smiles, brushing her palm down the side of his face. “You haven’t been a good boy. You don’t _listen_.” She puckers her lips in a pouty frown. “I’m going to have to punish you.” Her hand finds his right ear and she slowly begins to cut alongside his head to completely remove it. “Don’t need this if you don’t use it!”

Grimory tilts his head behind Alisbeth. He chews on the inside of his lip as if assessing a piece of art. He scoffs and shakes his head. “Now he’s lopsided, Ali. You should even him out.”

Alisbeth leers at Grimory. “Would you like to do the honors?”

The demon hunter flips the dagger in his palm to a position more apt for carving and grins. “Thought you’d never ask. Hold him still.” He kneels down beside the man and pulls his ear taught, then quickly flicks the blade through the connecting tissue. An impressed whistle escapes him. “A well-honed blade on a bandit? Who’d have thought?”

Alisbeth shivers at Grimory’s close proximity. “You did it too fast,” she whispers in his ear. She takes his hand and guides it to cut open the man’s cheek from the corner of his mouth to the edge of his jaw. “Slow, like this.” She nips at Grimory’s ear.

Grimory ignores the man’s muffled screams and gives Alisbeth a sideways glance. He flushes and leans away slightly when her teeth bite his ear. “Is this turning you on?” he asks in a hushed tone, a curious smirk on his face.

Alisbeth bites her bottom lip, an innocent smile spreading across her lips. “Do you want a comfortable lie or should I tell you how thrilling it is to watch you?” She snaps her teeth in the air in front of him and grins.

Grimory lifts an eyebrow and makes an identical incision on the other side of the man’s face, again ignoring his groans. “The latter sounds more exciting.”

Alisbeth gives a small moan and wraps her fingers around his arm to dig her fingernails into his flexed bicep. She watches the blood trickle from the slice and sees the fear in the human’s eyes. She takes Grimory’s hand and guides it to another spot to cut long and slow down his torso. The whole time her eyes remain locked on the demon hunter as she bites deep into her bottom lip.

Grimory again gives Alisbeth a sideways glance, almost afraid of what will happen should be actually turn to face her. Instead, he carves a shallow cut into the man’s stomach, then frowns down at him as his groans of pain fade out.

“Unconscious already? What a pansy.”

“Does that mean we have some time to kill before he wakes up?” She slips her fingers into his waistband and pulls toward her.

Grimory finally turns to look at her, his eyes instinctively running over her body. “I-I don’t know, Ali…” he says with obvious restraint. “I said I wouldn’t.”

Alisbeth’s smile dims. “Why? Don’t you like having fun with me? Is it this?” She motions at the mutilated man. “It doesn’t excite you like it does me, does it?” She removes her hand from his pants and frowns.

“No, Ali, it’s not that.” Grimory sighs down at the unconscious human beneath them. “I mean, it doesn’t excite me like it does you, but I’m not complaining.” He bites his lip and growls in frustration. “I’d…feel bad.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes in confusion. “But it would feel _good_.” She turns to straddle him instead, then leans over to collect blood on her hand from the human. Humming, she sets to drawing gentle, swirling lines over the demon hunter’s chest. Her hand follows the length of his tattoos down into his trousers again, her fingertips searching for where they end.

Grimory gives a noise of frustration and grips one of Alisbeth’s wrists, pulling it away. “You’re making this hard,” he mumbles while looking into her face eyes crackling and lips in a stern yet apprehensive line.

Alisbeth giggles and taps his nose. “Isn’t that the point?”

Grimory growls and visibly hesitates before he grabs Alisbeth’s hips and pulls her closer. “Fine. But no cutting this time.”

Alisbeth tosses the daggers away from them and grabs one of Grimory’s horns. “No cutting. No kissing. And it better be fun like last time. Those are the rules or you’ll be punished. Got it?”

Grimory raises his eyebrows, any guilt he’d had before leaves him. He unfastens his belt and smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”

~ * ~

“I assume they’re dead?” Anarchaia says as she crunches a piece of ice between her teeth.

Koltira takes a deep breath. “All but one. I left him unconscious on the bridge. Why did you run?”

Anarchaia finishes chewing, seeming to think on her words. “Some trauma I haven’t yet gotten over,” she finally says with a smile, then takes a drink.

“I’m sorry,” Koltira says. He knows it’s not his fault and that his sorry means nothing, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

Anarchaia clears her throat as she sets the mug back down. “Don’t be. Not your fault.” She hesitates. “Really, I should be the one who’s sorry.”

Koltira shakes his head. “No, you shouldn’t. Please stop apologizing for simply being yourself. Honestly, it’s probably a good thing that at least one of us doesn’t have some dark desire to kill things.”

“No, I deserve to apologize this time,” she says in her stuffy voice. “I shouldn’t leave comrades behind when I’m needed–no matter how small the situation. I’ve been yelled at for it before.” Anarchaia looks over at him and rests a cheek against her knuckles. “You have such a desire?”

Koltira nods, his eyes on the tabletop in front of him. “Such is the life of a death knight.”

“Sorry you have to deal with that,” Anarchaia says with a sad grin. “If it makes you feel any better, being Forsaken isn’t without its curses. You aren’t alone.”

Koltira shrugs. “In these times, even the living seem to be cursed, eh?” He gives a gentle smirk.

Anarchaia gives a solemn nod. “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.” She chuckles halfheartedly after a moment of thought. “Some more than others.”

“Do you mind if I ask for a better explanation for why you ran?” Koltira asks.

Anarchaia lifts her head again, surprised by the question. “Uhm,” she stammers, her smile gone. “I…don’t want to come off as though I’m seeking pity. I’m honestly rather angry at myself for making such a scene about it.”

Koltira shrugs. “Tell me or don’t, it’s really your choice.” He makes a face as travelers bump against his back as they pass. “I don’t blame you for keeping quiet in here anyway. It’s much too busy.”

Anarchaia chuckles, which causes her to cough into a fist. “Don’t like crowds? Me either. We can go elsewhere, if it please you.”

Koltira smiles. “The way I see it, there are two people involved in this. It’s not _my_ choice alone.”

Anarchaia rolls her eyes as she smiles and stands. “That’s right. I keep forgetting how much of a nice guy you are.” She swipes the tagged keys from Grimory’s spot on the table and makes for the stairwell, stealing an unattended bottle of wine from a table as she passes.

Koltira follows the mage, muttering under his breath. “Since when was being a gentleman something to get teased about?”

With the wine tucked under her arm, Anarchaia scowls as she fiddles with the lock to their room. “Oh, honestly! Are there _any_ good locks in this region?” She pushes against the door with her shoulder and sighs frustratedly when it doesn’t budge.

Koltira hangs back and watches the Forsaken girl get flustered. “It’s the humidity and the sea salt. It ruins the locks if they’re not properly cared for.” He leans against the door frame. “Do you want some help or are you going to complain more about how that makes me a ‘nice guy’?”

Anarchaia tilts her head up at the death knight, amazed by his pettiness. “I can’t, for the unlife of me, figure out what makes a compliment bother you so. But if it’s really a big deal I’ll stop.” She gives the door another shove. “Especially if you— _agh!_ ” As she rams the door one last time, it gives and she finds herself on the floorboards below. She chuckles and sits up. “Stronger than I look, eh?”

Koltira enters the room and extends a hand to help her up. “Nope. You’re exactly as strong as you look.”

Anarchaia accepts his hand and pulls herself to her feet. “I’m not sure if I’m offended by that or not.” She inspects the bottle of wine to make sure it hasn’t opened or cracked, then uncorks it while kicking the door closed. She takes a long drink, then pauses. “The gurgling.”

“The what?” Koltira asks as he begins removing his gear to get comfortable.

“You asked me why I ran. I can’t stand the sound of…gurgling.” Anarchaia cringes at the word and sets the wine aside to pull off her robes. “It’s the last noise my father made.”

Koltira stops and stares at the floor. “I’m sorry.” He takes a seat on the bed. “If I’d known…”

Anarchaia waves her hand. “No, no, it’s okay. I said I didn’t want pity, remember?” She lowers to sit on the floor, knees to her chest. “Besides, that was over twenty years ago.” She frowns. “I don’t get why I’m not over it.”

“It’s not pity,” Koltira insists. “I understand how it can affect someone to lose a loved one in a…traumatic way.”

“That’s right. Your brother…and Ali. At least you have one of them, though, right?” Anarchaia says with a crooked grin, then grits her teeth. “I’m sorry.”

Koltira shakes his head. “I wasn’t there when she died, but I was for my brother. I still get images of it in my mind and it still affects me. How could it not? And don’t apologize.”

“I…suppose that makes me feel a little better. It doesn’t seem to cripple you like it does me.” She inhales then erupts into a coughing fit. Frustrated, Anarchaia rips her mask from her head and tosses it aside. “Stifling.” She coughs a few more times, then washes her irritated throat with wine. “I can’t help apologizing. I brought up something I didn’t need to.”

Koltira lays back against the pillows, shaking his head as he crosses his ankles. “I asked, remember? Don’t worry, I won’t ask again.”

“No, it’s probably good you did.” Anarchaia lets herself fall sideways onto the floor. She spreads out over the floorboards and picks at the edge of the aged rug beneath the bed. “Master says I should talk about it more because it’ll give me closure…or something close to it.”

“Well if you want to talk about it, I suppose I could listen. Not much better to do anyway.” He chuckles and knits his fingers behind his head.

Anarchaia purses her lips and unravels a long thread from the rug. “I suppose you’re right. Besides, you’ve pretty much told me everything about yourself.” She brings her feet into the air and crosses her ankles. “A group of five men killed my parents. S-...” She pauses to clear her throat. “Cutting my father’s throat in front of me.”

“I’m s… Ana, that’s terrible.” He clears his throat, unsure what to say to offer some sort of condolences.

“It is,” the mage hums. “It was.” She twirls the thread through her bony fingers. “Then they cut out my eye and made me eat it before dismembering me with a giant cleaver.” She smiles at the yarn in her hand but tears well in her left eye. “One of them suggested they rape me... Not a day goes by where I don’t wish they’d entertained that idea instead.”

Koltira stares at her for a long, silent moment. Knowing there are no words for him to say to such a confession, he moves down to sit on the floor beside her, but facing her, and pulls her closer to give her a comforting hug.

“O-oh. This isn’t…necessary…” Anarchaia sniffles into his shoulder and returns the hug anyway. She holds back her sobs. “Sorry to burden you with this. I-I shouldn’t have. What was I thinking? Heh.”

“It’s no burden. Really I just can’t believe how strong you are.”

“ _Strong?_ ” The mage gives a quiet chuckle. “I’m not strong. I just…have a purpose. If I didn’t have that, I’d have thrown myself into Ascendant’s Rise long ago.” She wipes away her tears.

Koltira slides back to lean against the bed. “You didn’t end up losing your mind, purpose or not. You’re very strong.”

Anarchaia crosses her legs and supports herself with her palms on her ankles. She continues to fiddle with the thread. “Not all who suffer through something significant show signs of lasting damage.” She smiles up at him and sniffles. “And I think we’re all a _little_ mad.”

“All the best people are,” Koltira agrees with a nod. “I’m not suggesting Ali is weak, it’s just…” He sighs and swallows back what he was going to say. “So, what’s the most impressive magic you’ve done?”

“Ali is one of the stronger people I’ve met, to be honest.” Anarchaia’s watery eye lights up with interest. “I helped teleport Dalaran. Both times. What about you? What’s your most impressive feat?”

Koltira feigns modesty. “I had the Lich King at the tip of my blade and was _about_ to kill him when Darion stopped me.”

Anarchaia turns her head away but keeps an eye on his face, brow furrowed. “Who in their right mind would stop such a thing? That’s… That’s insanity.”

“True. But what choice did I have? Given the chance, though, I’d ignore the order to pull out.” He stares around the room, taking in its drab furnishings and blank walls.

Anarchaia glances back down at the thread around her fingers and realizes she’s knotted it tightly. She begins picking at the tangled mess. “Arthas stopped by the tavern I worked at once. He was…very kind. It amazes me how much power can change a person…and magic, obviously.”

Koltira nods. “Alisbeth met him once. Introduced by Tirion. She was excited to go to Northrend. Only elf on the list. Her mentor pulled her out the day before.” He chuckles at a dark thought. “She could’ve been the death knight to kill me instead of Thassarian.”

The mage’s red pupils flick back to his face while still picking at the string. “Would you have preferred that?”

He shakes his head. “I much prefer having known her while we both lived. It was the best year of my life.” Koltira smiles. “What’s your favorite memory?”

“Understandable.” Her eyes fall away as she thinks about his question. After a moment a bit of color fills her cheeks and she looks back at the knots around her fingers. “I don’t have one,” she says pointedly, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Liar.” Koltira laughs. “But fine, whatever. Don’t tell me. I’ll just…drink your wine.” He grabs the bottle and begins chugging.

She bristles at the term, pouting and unbuttoning the glove of the hand that’s tangled. “I promised I wouldn’t tell,” she mumbles and slides the glove off to more easily pull the threads away from the fingers. “Well…not _verbally_. But still. And don’t drink all that. I stole it fair-and-square.”

Koltira hands it back, haven only taken two swallows, his face pinched in disgust. “It tastes like stale snails and dirt. You should give it back.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I can’t taste anything then, hm?” Anarchaia chuckles and takes a long drink before setting it back beside her and pulling the thread from her gloves. She swallows and sniffles.

“You can’t taste? Anything? My tastes are…dull, I suppose. Like candle wax coating my mouth so I can only catch small hints of the flavor with sharp overtones of, well, dirt.”

“Nothing but extremely sweet and extremely spicy. Can’t smell anything, either.” Anarchaia pulls her glove back on and secures it at her shoulder

“Ali and Grim have been gone a long time.”

Koltira glances out the window to gauge the sun. “Maybe there was a long line to the showers?” He grits his teeth. “Or maybe… I’m going to hit him. Again. I hope you know that.”

She raises her eyebrows. “I hope you know that I don’t care,” she says, still bitter from being confronted earlier.

“I’m just making sure you and I are on the same page. I’ll hit him twice, once for you if you like.”

The mage chortles which then leads to a coughing fit. “Punch him for me? For what? Yelling at me? Don’t bother. I’m used to it.” She takes another drink to aid her dry throat, then falls back again to lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling. “But do feel free.”

Koltira shifts and makes a face. “Well…I don’t entirely want to. I just have to keep him in line.”

Anarchaia bites her lip, doing her best not to say the one thing he hates hearing. “Sorry you have to deal with this. Must be maddening.”

He purses his lips and points at her. “Don’t apologize. _You_ aren’t responsible for either of their actions.” He leans his head back against the matress to look at the ceiling. “I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, though. She might have problems with resisting urges, but maybe he won’t have the same problem. I mean the look on his face when he says out loud that she’s my wife…it’s like he’s punching himself in the face for sleeping with her.”

Anarchaia grits her teeth and decides to hold her tongue. “That’s probably for the best, really.” _For all involved._ She props herself up on her elbows, lightheaded, and points her own finger at him. “And I can’t stop apologizing. It’s apparently a character flaw of mine which I didn’t know about until I met you. And don’t point. It’s rude.”

He points again. “Don’t be a hypocrite.”


	25. Chapter 25

Alisbeth, covered in the human’s blood from head to toe, peeks one eye around the doorway to the tavern. The only part of her not coated in crimson is her armor, which has hasty smears from being put on. “They’re not in there anymore,” she hisses to Grimory.

The demon hunter nods—skin and clothes not nearly as saturated as hers. “That’s good, isn’t it? We don’t need to sneak, then.” Grimory pauses. “They’re probably in their rooms. The keys are gone.” He curses under his breath and heads for the showers. “I forgot what room numbers they were.”

“Kolty and I don’t have a room. Isn’t the other one yours?” She fiddles with her unsecured breastplate, doing her best to not clatter down the hall as she follows him.

“Ana said she wouldn’t need one, so I said you two could have one.” He scowls. “Though I’m sure they’re in each other’s company.” He listens carefully for familiar voices as he passes each door, also being as silent as his boots will allow.

Alisbeth smiles. “Koltira is good company as long as you don’t talk about anything that happened in the last four years. And you can’t get mad, I mean, at least you know they’re not having _our_ kind of fun.” She opens her mouth comically and winks as she pokes an elbow into his ribs.

Grimory stops in front of the shower room and glances down at her, wincing as his wound is elbowed. He raises an eyebrow curiously. “And how exactly do I know that?”

Alisbeth frowns up at him. “Because that wouldn’t be fair. She can’t have him if I can’t.” She pushes past him. “And if she does, I’ll have to kill her.”

Grimory raises both his eyebrows and gives Alisbeth a coy smirk, a hand on the doorknob to the showers. “A bit of a hypocrite, are we? Does that mean you wouldn’t care if ol’ Kolt killed me?”

“But he can’t kill you. We have an agreement.” A door opens down the hall and Alisbeth jumps, pushing open the door to the shower and shoving inside, dragging Grimory in by his belt and then slamming them inside. She presses her ear to the wood. “Not them. _Phew_.”

Grimory nearly slips on the soaked floorboards. “Agreement? What kind of agreement?” He pauses and turns. “And you’d really kill Ana? I thought she was your friend.” He unclasps his belt and hangs it and his leg armor up on the provided hooks.

Alisbeth frowns and stares at the floor, a look of shame spreading across her face. “He just wants me to be happy, even when he can’t be the one making me happy.” She removes her gear one piece at a time, assessing them in turn for how messy they are. “I might kill her. I do like her. But she can’t fuck him unless she’s okay with me being there, too. It’s not one of the rules, though. I should make that a rule.”

Grimory furrows his brow and kicks off his boots before unlacing his breeches. “You two honestly have the strangest relationship.” He turns the knob below the rusty shower head and cold water spatters over the wooden floor. “Please don’t kill Ana, regardless of what she does. I’d really appreciate it. You wouldn’t want to hurt _my_ feelings, would you?”

“I don’t want you thinking less of Kolty, okay? Promise you won’t and I’ll tell you something.” She stands under the cold water while fully clothed and watches the color of the blood run downward on the fabric. “I might have to burn these.”

Grimory shrugs and decides to wait for the water to heat up instead. “All right, I promise. I don’t really know enough about him to think any more _or_ less of him so it’s really not an issue to begin with…”

“When Thassarian and I broke him out of Undercity…he wasn’t the same. I’m scared that she poisoned his mind. He loves me, but he doesn’t…make love to me.” She stares at her feet then strips off her clothes. “I get lonely. _EEK!_ ” She leaps backward out of the stream as the water suddenly goes hot.

Grimory chuckles at her shriek then slowly sobers. “I’m…sorry to hear that.” He neatly folds his pants and sets them aside. “I suppose I see why you do…what you do.” This new fact somehow makes him feel unexpectedly less guilty. “Well. Pleasure to be of service?” he says with a quiet laugh.

“Don’t tell anyone!” she warns. She finds an abandoned bar of soap and sniffs it, then shrugs and starts rubbing herself down. “I’ve never used the same guy twice. It’s weird. But I like you. You’re my friend.”

Grimory crinkles his nose at the word _used_. “I guess I feel pretty special. And I promise I won’t tell a soul.” He holds out a hand for the soap. “I like you, too.”

She hands over the soap and purses her lips. “Sorry I kissed you. That was…weird and stupid and never happening again. Even if our lives depend on it.” She tests the water and tentatively leans in to rinse.

“Don’t be sorry.” The demon hunter flushes and turns away. He runs the bar over his wounds, inhaling sharply at the pain. “I liked it. It’s a shame you feel that way.”

“Do you want some help?” She doesn’t wait for a reply as she snags the soap and drags him into the spray of water to work the dried blood from the wound on his shoulder. “I’m not saying it was bad. I just don’t kiss other men. That’s not Koltira’s rule. It’s mine. You were just being so nice…”

Grimory hisses more as his cuts are worked over and reopened by the scrubbing. “Sorry for being nice, then,” he grunts between gasps. “Won’t happen again.”

Alisbeth giggles. “I like when you’re being nice. Just don’t let me kiss you. ‘Cause if I break the rules there’s no one to punish me.” She scrunches one eye at his wounds. “These are pretty deep.”

He grins. “I’d be there to punish you— _rrgh_.” A growl rumbles through his throat at the pain. “You’re being too rough. They’re bleeding again.” He reaches behind himself to blindly grab for the soap.

Alisbeth holds the soap away from him. “I’m not being too rough! You’re being a pussy!” She giggles and backs away.

Grimory cocks his head and scowls. “I’m sorry, what was that?” He turns and narrows his eyes. “Don’t think I heard you.”

“Stop being a pussy,” she repeats. While she has it, she runs the soap through her hair, finding pine needles tangled within the bloody mess.

Without warning, Grimory snatches the bar of soap back. “Only nice girls get to use this,” he says matter-of-factly, smirking and turning away to run it through his own hair.

“Oh, and you’re such a _good little girl_ , aren’t you?” Alisbeth sneers with a grin.

“The goodest.”

She jumps onto his back to try retrieving the soap. Instead she slides down his wet skin and falls to the floor on her rear. “Gimme the soap before I kill you.” She grabs his calf and pulls, trying to upend him.

Grimory laughs at her failed attempt. “You wouldn’t kill me over a bar of so—” He grunts as his chest hits the wood below, then laughs again, turning over and holding the soap in a fist between his spine and the floor. “You like me too much,” he teases with another smirk.

Alisbeth leaps across him, reaching her hands under his back to get the soap. “Okay, mister, you think you’re _so_ special. But let me tell you something.” She grunts and tries to shove him over. “I need the _soap_ , and you’re being the mean one and— _grr_.” She sits back and scrunches her face in annoyance. Her fingers begin picking the needles from her tangle of hair and throwing them at him.

Grimory chuckles and bats the foliage away as it comes. “That doesn’t really explain why I’m not special,” he says, sitting up. “But point taken.” He holds out the soap with a gentle grin, brushing away the pine needles that have stuck to his wet torso.

“ _Thank_ you.” She finishes lathering up her hair and rubs at her ears. “I didn’t say you’re _not_ special, either. But, being the logical person that I am, I feel it’s best I get clean or come up with a valid excuse for taking so long and being even dirtier. Unless you’re cool explaining to our friends what we did to and on that human.” She smiles slyly at the recent memory. “I don’t think he was dead yet. Do you think he was aware? Like, did he know what we were doing?” She laughs low and hands him the soap. “What an exciting last memory, right?”

Grimory snorts and rolls his eyes at the word _logical_ and slides out from beneath her to stand again. He takes the soap as it’s offered and goes to rinse in the hot water. “I suppose _exciting_ is a good word to use, yeah.” He clears his throat. “And no, those two should probably never find out about this.” He cringes inwardly. _Especially after what I’d said. Neither would ever forgive me a second time._

“Yeah, they didn’t want us to kill that human.” She frowns. “But I never lie to Kolty.” She waits patiently to rinse.

The Illidari looks over at her, concern in his eyes. “So you’re going to tell them.”

Alisbeth purses her lips, her face riddled with guilt. “I shouldn’t? I mean…how bad would it be? It would be bad.” She puts her head in her hands and whines.

“It would.” Grimory glances over at her after pushing his hair back. He furrows his brow. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine.” He rests a hand on her shoulder.

Alisbeth pops up and stands under the water. “Does it count as lying if I just don’t say anything? I mean, lying is saying what didn’t happen but if you don’t say anything then can it actually be a lie?”

Grimory’s eyes light up as he dries his head with a towel that had been neatly folded on a side table. “That’s right,” he says with a nod. “That’s exactly right. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Alisbeth crooks her mouth to the side and narrows her eyes at him. “Okay, but, if they find out I’m telling them it was your idea to not tell.” She grabs her armor in her arms and drops it under the cooling flow of water. Kneeling down, the death knight uses her fingertips to rub away all of the blood on the black and red metal.

“I’m okay with that,” Grimory responds with a satisfied grin. He pulls his pants back up over his hips and laces them. “Should be fun figuring out which room is mine.” He shrugs. “Or I could just go back down to the tavern. Care to join?”

She looks from her newly clean armor to her stained and soaked linen clothes, then up at Grimory. She smiles. “Sure! I’ll be right behind you.”

The demon hunter pauses after fastening his belt back around his waist. “Do you need help with that?” He chews on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Though I’m not too good with stains. That’s…usually Ana’s job.” He wiggles his fingers to emphasize his meaning.

Alisbeth turns off the water and kicks her gear across the room. She grabs a towel and wraps it around herself, then narrows one eye at the pile of clothes. “I was just going to leave them there.” She pokes at the plate pieces with her toes. “I need a place to put these.” She thinks for a long minute, then glances over at Grimory and jumps. “You’re still here? Why are you still in here?”

Grimory rolls his eyes in frustration. “Do you have any other clothes? I can get them for you…as soon as I find the other two.”

Alisbeth scoops her armor into her arms and struggles with them, trying to keep pieces from falling. “I’ll come with you! I have other clothes in my bag. I don’t like washing things so i just keep a lot of extras.”

Grimory takes it upon himself to grab her armor out of her arms before stepping out into the hallway. “That’s…excessive.” He keeps his ears open for the sound of either Koltira or Anarchaia. “I haven’t thought of the possibility of neither of them talking.” He sighs. “I wish I’d taken the keys before we left.”

She gives him a strange look. “Kolty actually doesn’t talk much, usually. Not lately. He just sits and thinks and listens.”

“He talks plenty with Ana,” Grimory grumbles. He stops before a door upon hearing the low murmur of a familiar voice.

Anarchaia glances up to the door from her hand of cards as a knock rings through the room. She furrows her brow beneath her mask, then clears her throat. “Who is it?” she calls out in a gravelly, masculine voice that clearly isn’t her own.

Grimory scowls at the door. “Very funny. Open up.”

Alisbeth presses her face to the crease of the door and calls through the crack, “Is Kolty in there? I need clothes. I couldn’t clean mine.”

Koltira sighs. “Yeah, I’m here.” He stands to open the door for them, ripping it open as it sticks.

“ _Aah!_ ” Alisbeth falls into his arms and giggles. She smiles up at him. “Hi.”

Grimory tosses Alisbeth’s armor into a pile near their belongings and glances down at Anarchaia, who gives what he can only assume is a frown of disapproval. “What?” he grunts.

<<Quite a long shower,>> she hisses in Darnassian.

Grimory’s eyes widen slightly and he turns away, scowling. <<They were all full. We had to wait.>>

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip as she dresses, not caring who is looking at her nude figure. “I know some of those words!” She announces excitedly.

Anarchaia ignores the woman, preoccupied with her irritation. <<You didn’t.>>

<<Of course not,>> he lies. <<I said I wouldn’t.>> His gaze turns to Alisbeth. “She’s mad we took so long.”

Alisbeth purses her lips tightly and widens her eyes on Grimory. After a long moment she smiles innocently. “Whatever Gator says is the truth. He doesn’t lie. He’s not a _liar_.” She digs through her things. “Not a fibber. Truth-man.” After finding her brush she sits down and starts running it through her hair. “Just listen to him.”

“So what have you two been up to?” Grimory says quickly, taking note of the empty bottle of wine.

“Cards,” Anarchaia responds, giving Koltira a brief glance and shifting uncomfortably.

“I owe her five gold,” Koltira says. He glances at Anarchaia before meeting the demon hunter’s gaze.

“Oh yeah?” Grimory throws himself into the weathered chair. “Not too good at poker, are we?”

Anarchaia shrugs a shoulder. “He’s won plenty. I’ve just won more.”

Koltira also shrugs. “I guess it’s just not my night.”

Alisbeth sweeps past him with a quick kiss, then flops onto the bed.

“Bad hands. In fact, I was just about to fold.”

Alisbeth picks up his cards from the bed. Her mouth drops open at them. “You were about to fold _this_?”

“Ali, if you cou—”

“This is a great hand! Why would you fold this?”

He purses his lips sheepishly.

“Ooh.” She rolls her eyes. “Some things never change.” She lays her head on her arm and smiles at him. Her arm dangles off the bed and she drops the cards face-down on the floor, then pushes the coins to Anarchaia. “He folds.” She scrunches her face in a smile at the mage.

Anarchaia bristles, immediately catching her meaning. She turns to Koltira and tosses her cards to the floor angrily. “ _You’ve been letting me win?_ ”

Grimory snorts from his corner and rolls his eyes.

The death knight purses his lips down at her. “I…thought you’d have better hands?”

Alisbeth giggles and leans to whisper to the other girl. “He did it to me, too. I punched him so hard his jaw swelled up. It was satisfying. If you hit him, I’ll understand.”

Anarchaia clenches her fists and they glow a menacing purple. “Oh, I’ll do more than hit him,” she growls playfully.

He holds up his hands defensively. “Now, now, there’s no need to get physical.” He narrows his eyes at his wife. “Ali, seriously?”

She shrugs innocently. “You reverse cheated. Just as bad as cheating. I think we should all hit you for it. Just take turns.” She makes a slapping motion in the air.

Anarchaia purses her lips as well and shrinks back again, sighing. “I can’t bring myself to hurt nice guys.”

Grimory chuckles and cracks his knuckles. “I volunteer.”

Koltira scoffs at the demon hunter. “You hit like a bitch. Alisbeth could hi—”

Without warning, Alisbeth jumps up and punches him as hard as she can in the mouth. Her face angry and eyes swirling flurries of rage. “You don’t let other girls win! Just me!” She spins on Anarchaia, a finger wagging in the air at her. “Don’t think I don’t know your game, little girl. I will—”

“Ali!” Koltira spins her around. “What the hell? Stop!”

Grimory gives a hearty laugh. “I guess you weren’t wrong!”

Anarchaia gasps and makes to stand but shrinks back at the finger in her face. “G-game? You mean _poker_? We were just passing time waiting for you two!”

Koltira wipes the blood from his lips. “What’s going on?”

Alisbeth frowns, tears welling in her eyes. “Are you going to fuck her?”

His eyes go wide and he clears his throat. “No! Why would you even think that?”

“To get back at me.”

He clenches his jaw and pulls her into his arms. “Ana is my friend and I’m not mad at you for the other night.”

The mage reflexively puts a hand over her mouth in shock. “A-Ali, I would never. I… I couldn’t hurt you like that.”

Grimory clenches his jaw and folds his arms but otherwise says nothing, listening intently.

She looks over her shoulder at Anarchaia. “But I hurt _you_. Both of you.”

“We’re fine, Ali. None of us are mad at you,” Koltira says, looking to Anarchaia for confirmation of this.

Anarchaia furrows her brow. “You didn’t hurt me. Why would you have?” She clears her throat. “And even if you _had_ , I’m not the type of person who seeks revenge. I’m not mad. We’re _just friends_.”

Alisbeth squares her jaw and stares between the two, then at Grimory.

The demon hunter lifts his eyebrows at Alisbeth, making it clear he himself is not convinced. He shrugs and looks away when he catches Anarchaia’s eye.

Koltira sighs in exasperation. “I’m not having this conversation. I’m not going to try to convince you of anything. Take it or leave it.”

Alisbeth grits her teeth, deciding to join Grimory in his disbelief. She gives Koltira a tight smile. “Okay.” With an angry swiftness she scoops up Anarchaia’s winnings and stomps out the door, slamming it behind her.

“A-Ali!” Anarchaia stands but ultimately stays in place. She throws her hands up and drops them to her sides in frustration, then shoots Grimory an angry glare. “You… _Agh._ ” She takes up the other room key and leaves as well; the cards flutter on the floor in her wake.

Grimory stares after the two then glances at Koltira. He shrugs again, giving an innocent smile. “Women.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

Alisbeth saunters up to the inn and smiles at Anarchaia, who is waiting outside. She looks up at the grey morning sky, then sets a small bag in the mage’s hand. “I tripled your earnings.” She doesn’t wait for a reply and heads inside.

Anarchaia looks down at the bag in her hand for a long moment and sniffles. She shakes her head as Alisbeth passes. “I’m…not even going to ask.”

With the same calm, she walks to Grimory’s room and kicks the door open, breaking the lock. “Good morning!” she calls as she runs across the room to leap on him.

Grimory shoots to a sitting position when the door to his room is broken open and flinches as a rogue splinter hits him. He cries out as he’s tackled, then laughs tiredly. “Morning, Ali. What’s up?”

She smiles and yanks the splinter from his arm. “It’s morning. We’re going. I think. Oh, also…seen Koltira?”

Grimory feigns a wince as the shard of wood is removed then shakes his head. “No. Not since I was awake anyway.” He winces for real as he shifts and looks down to inspect the healing wounds on his shoulder and ribs—they’re raised and red. “Have _you_ seen Ana?”

“She’s outside. I gave her money.” Alisbeth pats the top of his head. “I’m gonna go find Kolty.” She leaves the room at a skip. After a short search outside, she finds Koltira sitting at the edge of a cliff overlooking a misty bay. “Time to go.”

Koltira nods and looks up at her, then stands and allows her to lead him back to Anarchaia. “Morning, Ana.”

“It certainly is,” she responds with a small smile to the two, though it’s hidden beneath her mask. “All set? Not forgetting anything?”

Grimory appears moments later, his luggage slung over a shoulder, and yawns.

“I think we’re good,” Koltira says, still visibly off in his own world.

Alisbeth smiles. “Lead the way mage-face!”

“It’s not much further,” Anarchaia mumbles, clearing her throat and sniffling again. “We can probably get there in a day and a half or so.” She stops as something catches her eye. “What is that?” An arm on his shoulder, the mage pushes Grimory to face her.

Grimory hesitates and pulls away to hide his wounds. “It’s from the fight yesterday. It’s fine.”

Koltira narrows his eyes at the demon hunter, his mind replaying the fight and coming up blank on that particular wound. He shoots Anarchaia a look, but decides to keep his mouth shut.

“I got this one. Are you concerned about me, too?” Alisbeth says, weaving her way to the mage with a finger pointing to the slice in her jaw. “Someone should be concerned. It’s _right_ on my _face_.”

Anarchaia avoids Koltira’s gaze and instead looks at Alisbeth’s cut. “I…am generally afraid to ask where you get your wounds, Ali.” She sighs. “If either of those get infected, I’m going to be very irritated. Please keep them clean.” She glares over at Grimory from behind her mask.

“I will,” he hisses like a scolded child. “Stop being so bossy. We’re all adults.”

Anarchaia scoffs and turns away. “Barely.”

Alisbeth’s eyes sparkle as she remembers the fight. “He tried to slit my throat but I moved because I’m fast and a better fighter and that’s why he’s dead and I have a second mouth.” She puts her fingers at the top and bottom of the cut and moves top make it open and close. “Hello, Adderall, we sure had fun defending your honor!” she says in a tiny voice. The wound opens and she flinches as she shakes the blood from her fingers. She smiles innocently at Anarchaia. “We’ll be fine.”

Anarchaia winces in disgust and looks away, her stomach turning. “You didn’t have to do that. You know I’d prefer you didn’t.”

Alisbeth frowns. “I’m sorry.” She moves away from the mage to stand by Koltira, who hands her a small cloth to put over the wound.

Anarchaia purses her lips, not having wanted to sound so cold. “No, I’m sorry,” she says gently. “I didn’t mean to be rude…” she trails off when she realizes her apology means very little.

Grimory grunts from the back. “If we could use that horse, this trip would be much quicker.”

“We could go get her!” Alibeth offers.

Koltira shakes his head. “No, it would take too long to go all the way to Acherus and come back. Besides, I think we’re nearly there.”

The day presses on and the group talks of this and that, here and there. Passersby on their way to Valdisdall seem bemused by the bickering and banter when they are within earshot, then glance back over their shoulders at the strange quartet when safely out of earshot. A hawk screeches above when the sun touches the mountains to the west. Mist blows over the land.

Koltira looks ahead to a massive tower and stops on the edge of an immaculately designed bridge. “I’d say a god lives here.”

“I’d say you’re right,” the mage hums, lifting a hand to shade her eyes as she peers off into the distance. “A god isn’t the only thing, I’m afraid. I see sconces holding green flames.”

“Demons? Here? Well, I suppose it’s not too crazy an idea.” Grimory rubs his hands together excitedly. “It’s been weeks since I’ve gotten to do my job. This’ll be fun.”

“Just control yourself this time, if it isn’t too much to ask,” Anarchaia grumbles beneath her breath.

“ _The Maw hungers_ ,” Alisbeth says in a gutteral growl as she withdraws her axe.

Koltira cocks his eyebrow at Anarchaia. “Control killing demons? Which side are you on, anyway?” He gives a friendly wink and begins the trek across the bridge.

“That’s not what I meant,” Anarchaia says in a low tone, following closely behind. “He can get…out of hand.”

“ _I’d_ say I’ve gotten better since the last incident,” Grimory says, a hand on his chest in a haughty manner. “No need to worry.” He elbows Alisbeth. “Ready for more bloodshed?”

Alisbeth tosses her bag at Koltira and hops onto Grimory’s back, her axe in hand and an excited grin on her face. “Bet I can kill more than you!”

Koltira frowns ever so slightly. “She acts as if I won’t join.” He slings her bag on his shoulder and purses his lips at Anarchaia. “We’re never going to get them to stop, are we?”

“Yeah, not a chance,” Grimory laughs and takes off running down the bridge as quickly as he can.

Anarchaia nearly stumbles as she’s shoved past. After regaining her footing, she gives Koltira a solemn frown behind her mask. She looks on after the other two, but doesn’t follow. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” she says, rolling her thumbs over one another. “Stop acting like children? No, probably not.”

“Stop acting like children. Stop killing demons in the near future… Other things. I don’t know how you handle him on your own. Ali is easy—she’s short and I can carry her away.” Koltira smiles down at the mage.

Alisbeth leaps from Grimory’s back as they near the first demon. “Mine! Called it! That one’s mine!” She races to pass him and reach the demon first.

“I don’t, in all honesty.” The mage dodges a flying ball of fel fire as they near the group of Felguards keeping watch over the gates. “He does what he wants and I deal with the fallout.” She freezes two hungry-looking Felhounds in solid slabs of ice, then turns to sneeze. “Ugh. What an inopportune time to be ill.”

Grimory slices his way through some low ranking imps, then laughs at Alisbeth. “Are we going by number or size?” He narrowly steps out of the way of a beam of emerald energy. His arms grow in size as they mutate further; spines poke through the flesh. He turns to a tall, looming Inquisitor cursing them in Eredun.

Alisbeth runs into a horde of demons, drops a red ring of decay on the ground, and raises her weapon high. Dozens of tendrils reach out from her axe to pull that many demons to her. Once surrounded, she shouts and the air around her mutates in a black and red mirage of sudden heat. Lesser demons die instantly, stronger ones stay to batter the death knight; she returns the blows, conjuring a swirling ring of bone around her torso. She sucks the life of one through a swirling red torrent into herself. Then her aura turns crimson as she drains the lives of the surrounding demons. She screams a laugh as it invigorates her. One demon flees, realizing what weapon she holds, but she pulls him back and slices him in two. She turns to smile at Grimory. “Number. By my count you’ve got some catching up to do.” She spins around and runs screaming into another group of demons.

Grimory scoffs and smiles. “Easily amended!” He takes flight and turns, exhaling a cloud of crackling fire over the masses. Not stopping to assess his work, he crashes back to the weathered stone below. Eyes aflame with adrenaline, he runs through the masses with his claws out, raking them through legs and armored bellies. His grin widens as warm, green blood splashes his face. He makes his way after Alisbeth, toward the staircase at the end of the courtyard.

Koltira dispatches a few demons, smirking as he gets to sate his own blood lust. He doesn’t stray far from Anarchaia’s side. “Know of anything that could cure you or at least make the sneezing go away?”

Anarchaia gives the death knight a grin, holding the Inquisitor that had attacked Grimory in a stasis above the ground. “Death, preferably,” she chuckles and throws the monster off the side of the bridge. Pushing her hood back, she takes off after the other two, leaving sweeping torrents of fire in her wake like a ship cutting through waves. “Slow down! It’s not a race!”

“That’s cheating!” Alisbeth squeals at the demon hunter. She slides to a halt in front of a huge Moarg brute with a club. An evil smile spreads her lips and she rolls between its legs and clambers up its back.

Koltira laughs. “Death is not a cure, remember?” He stops, his eyes wide as the brute stomps across his path, kicking and smashing demons in its way.

“ _Wee!_ ” Alisbeth laughs and twists her axe in the brute’s spine to make it turn and stomp over another pack of helpless imps.

“All’s fair in love and demon slaying,” the Illidari laughs, cutting his way through a small pack of Felguards. He ducks when one swings its gigantic scimitar at his head, then brings a claw up to slice the demon’s arm at the elbow.

Anarchaia stops at the sensation of the earth rumbling beneath her feet. She quickly steps out of the way of the rampaging monster. “We just need to get up the steps, guys!” she calls out regardless if either Grimory or Alisbeth can actually hear her. She rolls her eyes and turns back to the path the demon hunter has cleared. She dodges another slavering Felhound maw and kicks it aside as she goes.

“Up the steps? Okay!” Alisbeth wheels her Moarg brute around. It runs toward the gate, swinging its mace wildly.

Koltira dives out of the way as the brute thunders from behind them. “Ana, look out! Ali, just kill it!” He turns himself ghostly and rushes forward to catch up, then leaps onto Alisbeth’s ride. He swings Byfrost in an arc, slicing at the demon’s spine.

The mage turns at the distant sound of her name. Her eyes widen at the beast now barreling in her direction. She stumbles as she walks backward and curls an arm over her head in defense, but the brute, blinded by pain and rage, steps over her completely. Anarchaia glances back up, thinking herself safe, only to find a Doomguard looming over her instead. She lifts a hand to blast it back with fire, but the flames that wash over its face are green.

Smoke billowing from his lips, Grimory scoops up Anarchaia and turns to follow the other two. “For a powerful mage, you sure aren’t very coordinated.”

She scowls up at him and flails, trying to make him drop her, but to no avail. “I could have handled it myself!”

Alisbeth twists her axe, removes it, then drives it farther into the demon’s skull. With a pained roar it stumbles forward and falls to the steps, dead. “Stairs!” The death knight spreads one arm up and one down as though presenting the stairs to the others as some sort of prize.

Koltira rips Byfrost from the brute’s spine and sighs up at her. “Let’s try to _not_ trample each other in the future. Please.”

Alisbeth scoffs. “Ah-ch-pfft. You guys were fine!”

Grimory sets Anarchaia down near the others on the steps. He places his hands on his hips as though he’s won an award, and grins. “You’re welc—”

He ducks as the mage hurls a massive cyclone of flames past his head, setting the tips of his mane ablaze. The Doomguard—having caught up after having its face burned—howls in agony and flops to the stone below, writhing as it slowly burns.

“ _You’re_ welcome,” Anarchaia huffs, poking him hard in the chest. She takes a step toward the staircase before turning and tossing a conjured orb of water at his head to douse the flames, then turns back to follow Koltira and Alisbeth.

Alisbeth’s mouth drops open. She leaps down the stairs to stand beside Anarchaia. “Oh my gods! Do that again! Light this on fire!” She motions at the dead Moarg brute. “If you _fwoosh_ it you’re my new best friend for life and I’m gonna keep you safe and happy and…I’ll pat your head a lot and make sure no one ever cuts it off.” She nods excitedly while flailing gestures at the corpse.

Anarchaia flushes and waves a dismissive hand. “Oh,” she laughs. “It wasn’t that impressive. But if it’d please you.” She flicks her wrist and the entirety of the brute’s corpse explodes into roaring flames. “Head pats won’t be necessary.” She pulls up her mask to sneeze in the opposite direction.

Alisbeth grabs the mage’s head and presses a kiss into her forehead then grabs her in an excited hug. With an arm still over Anarchaia’s shoulders, she turns to watch it burn while bouncing on the balls of her feet. “It’s so _pretty_!”

Koltira allows her a minute as he cleans the green blood from his blade. “Can we get going before these steps are swarmed?”

The mage chuckles some and weaves herself out of Alisbeth’s grasp. “He’s right, we should get going.”

Grimory pushes past the three, hair dry and neatly styled once again. “So he’s just inside, then? Watching us do all this I presume?”

Anarchaia shrugs. “I guess we’ll find out.” She presses on up the steps after him. “I hope he’s nice…”

Alisbeth smiles up at Grimory as he passes. “I won.”

The demon hunter chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Only because I had to save Ana.”

“I told you I could have handled it,” Anarchaia growls as they pass beneath the massive archway into the halls. Once inside, she stops and gives a look around, then frowns to find nothing but immaculate pillars and a marble floor so clean she can see herself in it. “This clearly isn’t the throne room,” she says, “but I expected him to be here for some reason.”

“Oh, nobody’s home? Guess we should go kill more demons!” Alisbeth turns around and takes a step for the doorway, but Koltira grabs her by the arm.

“Just wait.”

“I see the exterminators have arrived,” comes a low, booming voice through the halls. A man the size of a building materializes before the group, skin made of metal and a beard of flowing magma. “Sorry. I’m afraid we have a bit of a pest problem, you see.” He laughs at his own joke. “I was told of your coming. I figured you’d be here sooner, however.”

“Uh, I suppose that’s my fault,” Anarchaia says timidly, tapping her index fingers together. “I don’t like to fly, you see, and I can only teleport to places I’ve already been, so…”

“It’s no matter,” Odyn cuts her off. “Better late than never. I have a larger problem than the demons on my doorstep. I was told four valiant heroes were on their way to aid me.” He narrows an eye down at them and runs his fingers through his molten beard. “ _Valiant_ may have been a generous word.”

Alisbeth runs to stand between Odyn’s feet and smile up at him. “Your beard looks very hot. Does it burn? Can I touch it?”

Koltira rushes forward and wraps an arm around her waist to drag her back to the group.

Anarchaia grits her teeth at Alisbeth. “Y-yes!” she continues quickly, as if moving on will draw attention away from the death knight. “Anything you ask. It’s what we’re here for, after all.”

The titanic man bends down to grab the mage in a single hand. She skitters away and he immediately tries again—this time successful. “It’s difficult to hear such tiny voices,” he grumbles, ignoring her terrified screams. He straightens and continues when she quiets again. “Helya has been a busy woman. As of late she’s been keeping souls that she has no business keeping. I need some brave warriors to delve into Helheim and remind her of her place.” He glances down at the other three. “Are you brave warriors?”

Alisbeth scrunches her face to think. “You know what, big guy?” she screams at the top of her lungs. “I’ll be whatever you want as long as I get to kill things. I’ll kill Helya!”

Koltira gives Grimory an aggravated look as he sighs at Alisbeth’s words.

Grimory returns the glance, furrowing his brow as he looks up from his nails, clearly not paying attention. “What?”

The god laughs a laugh that rings through the room. “The enthusiasm is much appreciated.” He turns his ethereal gaze back to the mage in his palm. “You’ll have to go to Haustvald. In the depths of the crypts you’ll find a gateway into Helheim. I advise you be careful. Helya will try all she can to keep your souls there for eternity.”

Anarchaia stands shakily. “You can count on us…your…highness?” She winces at herself. “Is there perhaps a quick way to get there?”

Odyn strokes his beard in thought. “Normally I’d call one of Stormheim’s dragons, but none have answered my call in days. I suspect they, too, are dealing with the demon menace.”

Anarchaia waves her hands. “That’s not necessary.” She clears her throat. “We’ll find our way. Thank you.” She mumbles, “ _Please put me down, now,”_ out of the corner of her mouth and, though he did not appear to hear, the titan obliges.

“Me next! Me next!” Alisbeth shouts, trying to pull away from Koltira’s grasp. “Lemme go! I want to ride the hand!”

While struggling with her, Koltira looks up at the titan. “Thank you for your time,” he says loud enough for Odyn to hear. He bends his waist enough for a respectful bow.

Odyn gives the faintest of nods. “Good luck, travelers.” His visage fades into nothingness.


	27. Chapter 27

Anarchaia gives a shudder and steps back toward the archway. “Well, I can teleport us back to Valdisdall. We’ll have to hoof it from there, though.” She pulls out her map. “We’re actually well ahead of schedule.” She grins. _Master will be happy to hear._

Grimory groans and stretches. “More walking? Can’t you just not be such a coward so we can ride? Or fly, even?” He scrunches his face when she shoots him a look from beneath her mask. “Fine.…”

Alisbeth leaps onto Grimory’s back and wraps her limbs around him. “I’m gonna ride. Mush, Glamdring, mush!”

Koltira pulls at her waist. “Ali, could you _please_ get off him and show a little decorum?”

Alisbeth just giggles and doesn’t budge.

“She’s not hurting anyone,” Grimory says with a grin, following Anarchaia with Alisbeth on his back.

Back outside, Anarchaia steels herself as she prepares the portal back to Valdisdall. The air around her robes circulates, kicking up dust and foliage. The air crackles and spins until a small light grows into a swirling oval. “Go on ahead,” she calls, gesturing with her chin. “I’ll be right behind.”

Koltira waits for the other two to go through, then stands to stare at Anarchaia for a long moment. He opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it. The mage’s lips twitch to a sympathetic frown. but she hides it. Instead, she shows no signs of noticing. Eyes on the ground, he passes through the portal to Valdisdall. She sighs and steps through after them.

“I say we get a head start and get on the road ASAP,” Grimory says, turning to the other two. “We still have daylight. Best not to waste it, yeah?”

“Who needs daylight?” Alisbeth chirps. “Three of us don’t sleep, one glows in the dark, and one can light everything on fire and just make it really bright for us! Oh! And you saw how the Redblade reacts when I’m pissed off. Give me the sword and get me angry.” She grins and laughs evilly.

“You’re not taking Byfrost,” Koltira says sharply. He shakes off his thoughts, attempting to appear nonplussed by his wife clinging to Grimory in every way one can cling. With a deep breath he turns to Anarchaia. “I have to agree with Grimory. Getting started sooner will see us at the end of our journey in no time.”

Anarchaia shrugs and coughs into the back of a hand. “I’ve no qualms with that,” she chokes out. “It’s just northeast of here. Shouldn’t take too long. Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Grimory takes off running down the northeastern path. “Let’s go, then!”

The mage growls, letting him go. “I’ll stick to—” she coughs again “—walking.” She follows, rolling her eyes at their behavior. “If only they were as mature as they are strong…”

Koltira takes up his new usual spot beside Anarchaia. He remains quiet for a long time, just listening to their footsteps. “Let me know if you have the sudden desire to cling to me like a monkey.”

Anarchaia cocks her head up at him to gauge if he’s serious or not, then can’t help chuckling. “Did you want me to? I can if your back is feeling chilly,” she laughs.

Koltira shakes his head and eyes the two ahead. “You should know by now I don’t feel the cold. I’m just making sure _that_ isn’t your type of fun.”

Alisbeth slips and digs her fingernails into Grimory’s shoulders to hold on. Grimory winces, but makes no comment. She boosts herself higher and rests her chin on his shoulder.

“How much stuff do you think there is to kill?”

Grimory slows to a walk. “Hopefully lots. This trip has been so boring up until now.”

Alisbeth furrows her brow at him. “What about the first night? And the night in the tent—wait, that was only fun for me. Unless you _really_ like sleeping. And then there was the cabbages and the Worgen and the Night Elves.” She grins and lowers her voice, though no one is close enough to hear. “And the human…” She bites her bottom lip and pokes his cheek. “I’ve been having loads of fun.”

Grimory flushes but smiles. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve been having fun, too. I just miss the action of a good fight.” He stops briefly to readjust her weight on his back, his hands under her thighs to keep her up. “I want more of that kind of fun.”

“I don’t care about a good fight, I just want to watch things die! And especially be the one doing the killing!” Alisbeth giggles.

Grimory gives a laugh. “That must be why we get along so well.”

Anarchaia opens her mouth to reply, following Koltira’s gaze. She closes it again and sets a gentle hand on the back of his arm. “You…” She sighs and retracts her hand, smiling again. “That’s not my idea of fun, but you wouldn’t like mine much, either. What’s yours?”

He smirks darkly. “For the past four years my hobby was planning out my escape and eventually just daydreaming about the life I’d have once I got out. Now I don’t really know what to do with myself. When I’m not busy with Alisbeth, I read or just sit and think. Sometimes I’ll spar with Thassarian or help train some initiates.”

The mage nods as she listens. “You and I aren’t so different after all, then.” She glances down at the dirt as she walks, clasping her hands behind her back. “Was it that bad? In Undercity, I mean.”

“I was in a cage…most of the time,” he says. The death knight gives a shrill whistle directed at the two ahead.

“That’s awful,” Anarchaia mumbles beneath her breath, then glances up at the sound.

Alisbeth glances back and pats Grimory on the shoulder. “Slow down. We’re getting too far away.”

Grimory rolls his eyes and slows to a stop to wait for the other two. “Maybe if they weren’t so slow.” He scrunches the side of his face in irritation. “He’s just jealous,” he says up to her in a low tone.

Alisbeth _tsks_ and rolls her eyes. “Koltira doesn’t get jealous. He just worries when he can’t see me. If he can’t see me, I could get lost, I could kill someone I shouldn’t, or I could _die_ …again! And I think that would make him sad. I know I’d be sad if I saw him die again. The first time was awful. I didn’t even have time to mourn.” She swings her feet back and forth in the air and smiles at the two making their way up the path.

“If you say so,” the demon hunter says with a shrug. “Not saying he isn’t justified, anyway.” He turns again to walk when the other two are within earshot.

Anarchaia stretches her arms and conjures her parchment and quill to idly take notes as they trek. “It’s not a race, Grim.”

Koltira peeks over at Anarchaia’s parchment, curiosity leading him to snoop.

“No, but I’ll be glad when this is all over, to be honest. I’m really more of an _instant gratification_ man.” He smiles at the thought of the commendations he’ll get when his superiors catch wind of his accomplishments.

Alisbeth squirms to get down from Grimory’s back. The Illidari releases Alisbeth from his grasp, wincing at the still healing wound in his ribs. He turns his head at the sound of fluttering feathers, then pauses to look as a large, black bird lands itself upon Anarchaia’s shoulder. He furrows his brow.

“Uh, where did that crow…?”

The mage grins widely as she takes the bird by its small talons, then giggles, her mood brightening. “Grim, this is a raven.”

“Same difference,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, _no_ ,” Anarchaia responds. “Ravens have beards.” She runs a finger under the bird’s chin as though giving some sort of demonstration. “They also have diamond-shaped tails and are larger in size. Oh! They also say _rawk-rawk_ as opposed to a crow’s _caw-caw_.” She smiles at the bird in her hand, but frowns after a moment of silence. “I said, they say _rawk-rawk—ow!_ ” She flinches away from the animal’s beak as it makes contact with her forehead.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” the raven squawks, feathers ruffling in irritation. “I haven’t heard a word from you in nearly three days. I told you, when—” The dark eye on the side of its head shifts from Alisbeth back to Anarchaia. “When on this _particular journey_ , you give me frequent updates.”

Alisbeth hunches down and moves her back feet like a cat ready to pounce. All at once she leaps forward, her hands grabbing at the bird as she screams, “ _Don’t you hurt my friend!_ ”

Gasping, Anarchaia whirls away from Alisbeth, then stumbles to the dirt when she becomes tangled with the woman. “ _Ali, no!_ ” She hugs the bird tightly to her chest as she turns, feathers fluttering to the ground. “This is my teacher!”

Alisbeth continues to stretch for the raven. “I don’t care who he is! He’s dinner if he thinks he can smack you in the face for no reason.” Koltira drags Alisbeth off the mage and holds her back as she flails with all of her limbs.

The raven struggles in Anarchaia’s arms, then stops and furrows his tiny brow as he listens to the air flowing through the inside of her torso. “And you’re ill as well? What else have I not been informed about?”

“Nothing!” Anarchaia responds, pulling the creature away from herself. “We’re fine! All is going well. I was…actually going to contact you later.”

“No one smacks faces but me! _Do you hear me?_ Stupid rave—Oh…” She stops and straightens, then casts a devious grin at the other girl. “A raven, huh?”

Koltira keeps his hands around the other death knight’s waist to keep her from another outburst. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says to the raven from behind her shoulder.

The raven flitters from Anarchaia’s hand and onto the dirt. He hops a few paces away before, in a flash of blue-white light, coming to stand up as a tall, aging man clad in metal scales and leather. Khadgar brushes his tousled hair back and adjusts his collar. “And I you, Koltira Deathweaver.” He extends a gloved hand to help his apprentice back to her feet.

Grimory folds his arms and watches the scene before him, clearly amused. “We just got back from talking with Odyn, actually.”

“Have you?” he addresses Grimory, thick eyebrows raised in interest. “What did he say?”

Anarchaia eyes Alisbeth as she stands, the woman’s tone change causing her to become suspicious. “He said he wants us to seek out Helya in Helheim.” She clears her throat.

Alisbeth slips from Koltira’s grasp and goes to Anarchaia to jab her in the side with her elbow. “Who’s your gentleman friend?” She gives him a manic yet charming smile, then widens her eyes. “Oh! _Oh!_ The bird is on his stick!” She jumps over to Khadgar and grabs at his staff to see the bird at the top.

“Master Archmage Khadgar,” Anarchaia responds, then gasps sharply again as Alisbeth makes to grab the staff. “ _Ali!_ ” she hisses.

Koltira rushes forward and drags her back, her limbs flail in his grasp again.

“Hi Kitkat! Can I see your staff?” Alisbeth pleads, her arms outstretched.

Archmage Khadgar pulls Atiesh out of Alisbeth’s range, furrowing his brow in confused concern when the death knight is again subdued. He glances at Anarchaia. <<How have you lasted this long?>> he asks in Dwarvish, then shakes his head when the Forsaken girl shrugs in response. “Helheim, you say?” he continues. “If that’s the realm I know it to be, I’m honestly concerned for you all. I didn’t expect Odyn to task you with something so…dangerous.”

Koltira furrows his brow at Khadgar, though his grip remains strong on Alisbeth. “Dangerous how?” His eyes flicker to his wife as a small fear of losing her nags at his mind.

The man clears his throat, turning slightly away from the two so that he stands between Alisbeth and Atiesh. “Those who linger too long in the mists of Helheim have been known to lose their minds, and the ones who do wander forever in its depths. Only your soul will be allowed entrance.” He again gives his student a glance as if to say something more but turns back to the rest instead. “If you do not succeed you surely won’t return.”

Alisbeth stops and frowns. “Is… Is it like having your life drained out of you? Because I’m not sure I want to do that again. It hurt. And I stayed alive for hours and—”

“Shh.” Koltira takes her into his embrace as she breaks down crying, still telling her story to his breastplate, though her grief jumbles her speech. Koltira turns to Khadgar. “I’m sure we can handle it. Some minds are harder to break than others.”

Khadgar shifts uncomfortably at the woman’s over-sharing, then nods. His blue eyes flick to Grimory for a brief moment as if expecting him to respond as well, but he turns to Anarchaia before the demon hunter can do so. “I don’t doubt that you will succeed. However—”

“We _will_ succeed,” Anarchaia says quickly, then covers her mouth as she swallows a coughing fit.

Khadgar sighs and runs a palm over his hair again, still doing his best to ignore Alisbeth’s sobbing. “Please understand when it’s appropriate to retreat?”

“And when it’s not,” Grimory grunts.

Anarchaia scowls in the demon hunter’s direction. “I do. We’ll be fine.”

The Archmage chews on the inside of his cheek for a long moment before placing the same palm on Anarchaia’s head and nodding to Koltira and his wife. “Again, a pleasure.” His gaze then flicks to Grimory and his eyes narrow. “Take care, Grimory.” Before the blond Blood Elf can respond, the man turns and becomes airborne in the form of a raven.

Anarchaia smiles sadly as she watches her teacher go.

Alisbeth spins around, eyes wide and no hint of her sobbing. “Wait! I didn’t get to say goodbye!”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow at Grimory, his eyes flicking between the demon hunter and the raven.Grimory catches Koltira’s eye and his scowl deepens before he turns away.

Alisbeth goes behind the mage and wraps her arms around the smaller girl’s shoulders and chest. She presses her cheek into the other’s. “I hope it doesn’t hurt. I don’t want you to feel what it’s like to die. It’s not fun. I’ll protect you, okay?” She pets the side of the cloth mask and hums a soft tune.

Anarchaia stiffens in Alisbeth’s arms, her lips pursing and the prompted memories flooding her mind. “I-…” She swallows hard and sets a palm on Alisbeth’s forearm. “Thanks, Ali. I really appreciate that. You’re very sweet.”

Alisbeth lifts the mage onto her shoulder again and squeezes the girl’s thighs in a sort of hug with her head and arm. “You’re going to be my shoulder cannon. You’re going to light everything on fire. Okay?” She makes her way to the men.

Koltira nonchalantly takes a place just behind Grimory’s shoulder. He waits a long while before saying, “Something tells me he isn’t the founder of your fan club.”

“Observant, aren’t we?” Grimory says casually, continuing on down the path. “He’s not fond of me, no.”

“What did you do? Fuck the woman he loves?” Koltira laughs and holds up his hands before the demon hunter can respond. “Kidding, of course. I already told you it was okay. One-time pass. Only because you’re an okay guy…mostly.”

Grimory cocks his head at the first part of Koltira’s response and merely stares into the man’s face as they walk, hoping the other will catch his meaning.

Koltira raises his eyebrows and clears his throat in the awkwardness. “So, um…is it a habit of yours or…?”

Anarchaia gives a nervous chuckle, placing a hand on Alisbeth’s crown to steady herself. “Hopefully there won’t be any fire-lighting that’ll be needed,” she says sheepishly, clearing her throat. “But if you insist…”

Alisbeth grins up at Anarchaia. “I insist very much.”

The mage chuckles. “Unlike you, I’m not really fond of hurting people. Heh. I’ll make us campfires and stuff, though.” Her quill and parchment continue behind them, scribbling away.

“And you’ll burn the evidence,” Alisbeth whispers up to the mage. She gasps and jumps. “We forgot to burn the evidence!” Alisbeth shouts, staring pointedly at Grimory, though her eyes shift to Koltira as well.

“I—” Grimory’s eyes widen at the voice calling out behind him, but he doesn’t turn around.

Koltira furrows his brow at Grimory. “I thought you took care of the worgen?”

He thinks quickly. “Th-the Night Elves,” he says. “We left their bodies at the bridge.”

“Goliath! Did you hear me?” Alisbeth calls.

Koltira turns to look at her. “Ali, it’s fine. A pair of bandits isn’t something anyone will miss.”

Grimory turns his head to give Alisbeth a painful smile over the shoulder opposite the side Koltira is walking.

Alisbeth stares between the two men, her brow furrowed. She raises her eyebrows and casts Grimory an apologetic smile.

Anarchaia frowns at the mention of the bandits. “You guys really didn’t have to kill them to begin with…” she grumbles, glancing back at the setting sun behind her. “Most problems can be solved without violence.”

Alisbeth looks up at the mage. “They deserved it. We were doing the world a favor. And why solve things without violence? It’s fun!”

Anarchaia’s frown turns somber. “You can’t be sure we were doing the world any sort of favor. Maybe those men had children and knew no other way to provide…”

Alisbeth turns her head away from the mage, her ears drooping with sorrow. “Even children are not safe from the evil of this world.” She removes Anarchaia from her shoulder and sets her down, then continues ahead to pass the others and lead the party through the yellow-orange of the autumn forest.

As the sun dips completely below the mountains behind them, the birds around fall silent. Anarchaia sends away her notes and takes a long drink from her flask of water. “We should stop for the night,” she mumbles and yawns. “Roads aren’t safe when it’s dark.”

“Oh please, Ana,” Grimory responds. “Who’s going to attack a group of four?”

“A group of five,” she responds pointedly, furrowing her brow up at him.

Koltira chuckles. “Five? Is that all? That wouldn’t even be a fair fight for them.” He gives Anarchaia a charming smile. “Especially if you stick around to help.”

Grimory gives a half-laugh, half-scoff. “No kidding.”

Anarchaia ignores Grimory and returns the grin reluctantly, then sighs and produces a small flame in a palm. “All right. We’ll travel through the night then.”

Alisbeth slides in between Koltira and Anarchaia, slipping her hand into his. She gives the mage a sinister grin. “Not afraid of the dark, are you?” she asks with a low growl to her voice.

Anarchaia narrows her eyes beneath her mask. “Perhaps at one point. There are more reasonable things to be afraid of, now.” She brings the flame below her chin and it casts dramatic shadows over her face. “Are you?” she asks in an equally low growl.

Alisbeth smiles. “As you said, there are more things to be afraid of now. Like being alone in the dark. You can’t hear anything. You can’t see anything.” She steps behind the mage and presses her hands over Anarchaia’s ears. “It’s just you and your thoughts. All alone. Sometimes I think I’ve stopped existing. Sometimes I think I’m nothing but a thought. I have no body. Just a whisper in endless black.” She releases the mage and goes to curl into Koltira’s arms, having thoroughly frightened herself. “Being nothing is scarier than darkness.”

A shiver goes up Anarchaia’s spine. _Like being dead._ “Sometimes I think I’d rather be nothing,” she says with a chuckle.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Grimory grunts.

“And I suppose you’re not afraid of anything?” Koltira asks.

Alisbeth shakes her head. “Everyone is afraid of something.”

“I didn’t say that,” Grimory replies. “I’m just not going to tell you.”

Anarchaia scowls, remembering his giving of her personal information. “He doesn’t want to die alone.”

Grimory grits his teeth and gives Anarchaia a look. “Thanks.”

Alisbeth strides to the demon hunter, her eyes wet with tears. She takes his hand in a comforting squeeze. “That’s a good thing to be afraid of. It’s terrifying. And sad.”

Koltira grits his teeth and stares at the road, determined to stay out of the conversation.

“If you say so,” Grimory grumbles and rubs the pad of his thumb over her cheek to wipe away the tear trail. “I’m more afraid of what will happen if we don’t stop the Burning Legion.”

“Same,” Anarchaia admits from the back. “That’s why we’re doing all this. We need all the help we can get.”

Alisbeth bats Grimory’s hand away when he doesn’t listen. She growls and stomps away, unable to bring herself to convince him how terrible it is, her mind unwilling to recount how alone she’d been.

Koltira pulls Alisbeth under his arm and decides to diffuse the tension building between all of them. “So, Grim, what say after all this mess you and I find a good spot and you show me what’s so wonderful about fishing?”

The demon hunter rolls his eyes at Alisbeth’s unpredictable nature and pulls his ears back at the sound of his name. He laughs. “Sounds good to me. I’ll bring the ale.”


	28. Chapter 28

The darkness of the night presses in on the group. Alisbeth clings to Anarchaia, keeping her eyes on the flame in the mage’s palm, afraid that if it goes out she’ll be back in her room to find the entire adventure had been all in her mind.

The trees rustle to the left, Koltira withdraws Byfrost and keeps his eyes peeled in that direction.

The flame in her hand swells to illuminate the entire area and Anarchaia glances in that direction as well. “Grim, stop,” she says, his footsteps making it harder to hear.

The demon hunter obliges and turns, then glances around cautiously when he notices everyone’s apprehensive gazes. “Why? What is it?”

Alisbeth unsheathes her axe and peers into the darkness. “It looks like…rocks?” she whispers. She laughs. “You’re afraid of a few ro- _AHH!_ ”

Elementals burst through the bushes, converging on the small party. Koltira and Alisbeth act on instinct and drop red rings of decay under their feet.

Grimory also gives a laugh and places a hand on the dirt. A golden circle crawls its way around all figures. “Not demons or bandits, but they’ll do.” A sigil appears in the center. From it spring chains of a similar color and glow, pulling the elementals to the center of the group.

Anarchaia rolls out of the way of the rocky monsters as they’re pulled in her direction. She lifts a hand as she turns and the elemental nearest her begins to freeze, its parts slowly becoming encased in frost. Grimory takes the opportunity to shatter the monster with his claws. Frozen rock and ice crumble to the ground.

Alisbeth catches one of the creatures on her axe, then begins hacking at it until it’s rubble on the ground. She continues long after as Koltira holds off more, taking two down in a single stroke.

“Grim!” Anarchaia calls.

The demon hunter nods. He bends slightly at the waist and, using his hands as a foothold, hurls the mage into the air. Anarchaia thrusts her palms out before her, blasting a wave of fire to the remaining elementals—one runs off into the trees as it burns. She lands clumsily, however, and in her blunder is met with the stiff fist of one of her victims, sending her flying into the bushes.

Grimory launches himself into the back of her attacker and, with shaking muscles and a bestial growl, tears its head from its body in a shower of water and rock.

Koltira frowns at Alisbeth, who is still beating the same elemental. “Ali, it’s dead.”

“How can you tell if there’s no blood?” she demands.

“It’s not moving.”

“It could get back up!” She blows her hair out of her face and looks up at him, then jumps and smashes the rocks again.

Koltira smirks at the other two. “Nice moves.”

“We’ve had some practice,” the demon hunter says as he hurries to the roadside. “Ana! Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride,” the mage says as she takes his hand and stands. She chuckles and brushes the foliage from her robes. “Man, it is _not_ my week…”

Koltira sighs. “If everyone is in one piece, I suggest we keep moving. There could be more.” He grabs Alisbeth’s axe to stop her pounding at the rocks. “It’s dead.” She pouts but follows him anyway.

“Agreed,” Anarchaia says. She winces and rubs her spine with a palm, then pushes Grimory along to follow the other two.

With a great deal of caution and backward glances, the party finally reaches the dusty archway of Haustvald. The air grows thick and beyond the large stone pillars rests a dense fog.

“Hm. Inviting,” Anarchaia muses, a flame once again crackling in her palm.

“Ooo, pretty!” Alisbeth skips the first steps into the misty area. She smiles up at the sheer cliffs on either side of her. “I like this place!”

Koltira eyes the others, then shrugs and follows.

Anarchaia grits her teeth. “Ali, we should probably keep our voices down. We don’t know what or who is hiding in these…crypts?” She glances down at a skull near her feet and shudders. “We should use caution. The dead have always been known to be restless.”

Grimory scoffs and pushes past the mage and into the mists. “ _We should use caution_. You always say that and we always turn out fine.”

“Grim, I’m serious. Not only is it nighttime, but this fog is quite dense. Please stick close.”

Alisbeth stops and turns to smile at the others’ silhouettes in the fog. “Don’t worry, Armani, it’s f—”

Koltira furrows his brow at the spot where Alisbeth’s figure disappeared from. “Ali?”

Anarchaia sighs loudly in frustration. “Honestly, why do I even speak?”

Grimory scowls. “Hey, I’m still here. I listened.”

“Okay, great. Thank you.” The flame in Anarchaia’s palm expands again to illuminate the surrounding area, but the light merely bounces off the fog. “ _Ugh_. Alisbeth?”

Koltira withdraws Byfrost and holds it with both hands. His jaw clenched, he moves forward into the fog, eyes wide as he scans the area for signs of the other death knight.

Anarchaia follows closely behind so as not to lose any more group members. “Ali?” she calls quietly, concern overshadowing the irritation in her voice.

The hairs on the back of Koltira’s neck raise up. “This isn’t regular fog.”

“You’re right,” the mage responds, straining her eyes behind her mask. “This is…advanced fog.”

“That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Grimory whispers through the silence.

Koltira stops. “Shh, do you hear that?”

The two quiet at Koltira’s command. Anarchaia looks away from the bright light his blade is emitting. As though from far away, chanting echoes from the cliffs to surround them, muffled to a whisper by the thickness of the fog. He raises Byfrost; the green glow of the blade illuminates into the whiteness. Koltira narrows one eye at the mage, then returns his attention to the chanting. A small rock sails through the mist toward Grimory’s head. The demon hunter cries out sharply in pain and surprise.

“ _What the hell?!_ ” he hisses, blood trickling down the side of his face as he glares in the direction he suspects it came. “Ali, I swear if that was you…”

Another rock sails into view, just a little to the left of the first. Koltira dives out of the way, landing across a stone cut at a right angle. He grits his teeth and looks up to find himself face to face with a skull. A larger rock sails into their light.

“Ana!” Koltira cries out as warning.

Anarchaia blinks in no particular direction to avoid the hail of stones, irritation returning. “Who’s there?! _Show yourself!_ ” she lifts the fire above her head and it grows to a significantly larger size.

Two stones shoot through the air at the same time. One lands on the back of Koltira’s head, gravity making it heavier, as the other sails to hit the demon hunter again. The death knight growls as pain splits through his skull. Grimory flinches and whirls around, eyes aflame as he barks more expletives.

Thoroughly annoyed, Anarchaia pulls the two men to her position using her magic. She throws up a protective shell of arcane energy to effectively shield them from any further assault. _“I’m not going to ask again!”_

Koltira eyes two stones that fly over their heads. “That way.” He points and nudges the other two into walking.

Two voices become apparent, growing louder as they move forward. One voice is low with a harsh accent, the other is high and familiar.

“Alisbeth! Gods dammit!”

“Over here!” Alisbeth shouts.

Her friends come into view and she smiles brightly and waves with one hand. Beside her is an ethereal being. They sit, smiling, on a low cliff’s ledge, holding hands.

The ethereal being drops the rock in her hand. “Hello, little ones. I am glad you found us.”

Alisbeth grins. “She didn’t want me to get lost again and you guys couldn’t hear us screaming. Could you? It was my idea to throw the rocks. Did you see them?”

The mage and demon hunter both glare, annoyed at the situation but unable to form any valid arguments.

“We saw,” Anarchaia finally says, the shield dissipating. “Who is this?”

“This is Ashy-tear. I told her that we’re going into Helheim and she said that she could help us.” Alisbeth hops down from the ledge, her excitement growing.

The being raises an eyebrow at Alisbeth and blinks. “I… My name is Ashildir. I am Queen of the Valkyra. I hope your size is not reflecting of your prowess as warriors, for I have need of the skills Miss Alisbeth has told me of.”

Alisbeth bounces on the balls of her feet. “I told her we’re awesome.”

Grimory sets his palms on his hips and grins as though he wasn’t just afflicted with a head injury. “Well, she wasn’t wrong.”

“What do you need done?” the mage replies, her parchment and quill already at the ready.

“There is a runeseer, Faljar, who has been working to banish me to Helheim permanently. He uses dark magics, forbidden magics, to do his rituals. I fear he may succeed. I require your assistance getting rid of him before my spirit is damned. Then I will help you in any way that I can, little ones.”

Alisbeth squeals. “I already said yes. We get to kill someone. Intentionally. _And_ we’re getting help with that thing we’re actually supposed to be doing here.” She runs over to shake Grimory by the shoulders, throwing her own body weight around to do so. “ _Isn’t it so exciting?_ ”

Grimory takes Alisbeth by the upper arms and pries her off him. “Yes. Very exciting. Please stop.”

Ashildir purses her lips down at Alisbeth. “Is the little death knight always so…excitable?”

“Yes, I’m afraid,” Anarchaia says with a nod, her quill scribbling. “And where is this…Faljar?”

Ashildir frowns. “Deeper into the fog, I’m afraid. His followers and their skeletal warriors stand in our way. He has been chanting for days to complete the spell. How fortunate you should arrive when you did.”

“More killing!” Alisbeth jumps up and down.

“We can’t see more than a few feet in this fog. How do you expect us to get through it?”

Ashildir smiles and raises her spear high. A bright light shines through the area, clearing the fog just enough to see nearby runeseers chanting at their stones, their guardians of raised Vrykul remains pace back and forth and up and down the paths.

Anarchaia frowns as she looks down over the men and remains, her parchment and quill disappearing in a puff of smoke. “Are…you just going to sit there and light the way for us? Because that’s awful kind of you…”

Ashildir chuckles. “I can stop, if you’d rather do things in a more difficult fashion. Though, I am kind of running out of time.”

Alisbeth elbows Anarchaia in the ribs. “Shut up,” she hisses, “or she’ll take away her magic light!”

“O-Oh. Right. Sorry,” Anarchaia says with an awkward grin, turning toward the now illuminated crypts. “After you,” she says, motioning for the others to go first.

“With pleasure!” Grimory leaps down to the stone steps and dismantles a skeletal warrior that rushes him. He picks up the monster’s sword and flips it in a hand, then turns on the now angry runeseer.

Alisbeth giggles after him, her axe on her shoulder. She drives the spikes of it into the calf of the Runseer.

Koltira shrugs. “Timeline, right?” He smiles and runs forward to join the other two and sate his own bloodlust.

The runeseer reaches out his hand to cast a spell on Grimory. The demon hunter lifts an arm defensively. Koltira brings his sword sweeping down to cut the extended arm off at the elbow. Grimory laughs.

The Illidari brings the stolen rusty blade forward in thrusting motion, running it through the runeseer’s heart. The blade, however, breaks in two when he tries to withdraw it. He shrugs and tosses the hilt aside.

Anarchaia takes a step forward, but her path is cut off by a tall, rattling skeleton wearing a horned helmet. “Hi,” she says with a small wave, “we’re friends, right?” She blinks out of the way of the creature’s hammer as it comes down. “Guess not.” A torrent of fire erupts from the stone below and the skeleton explodes into separate pieces.

Alisbeth runs down the path to the next bone warrior. She swings her axe over her head and hacks at its ribs. Koltira runs past her with a smirk and leaps at the next thing he sees. The runeseer yelps in surprise and anger as his ritual is interrupted. Grimory turns at the sound of more clinking bones and exhales a cloud of fel fire over his attacker. Anarchaia makes for the rounded staircase to the arena at the far end of the crypts. She skids to a halt as a bolt of black energy whizzes past her head. She retaliates with a barrage of arcane projectiles, knocking the runeseer off the ledge.

“Wait for me!” Alisbeth shouts, running after the mage. She leaps onto the shoulders of another runeseer, who is coming up behind Anarchaia, and begins driving the spikes of her axe into the top of his skull over and over.

Ashildir gapes at them. “This…This is madness…”

Alisbeth giggles maniacally. “But it’s _awesome_ madness! Are you gonna join or what?”

Ashildir smirks and falls into step beside Koltira as he finishes off his runeseer and makes his way to the girls.

Grimory notices the rest of the group and decides to follow, leaping off the ground to glide closely behind. “There’s a hooded figure up ahead. Appears to be taking power from some sort of…pylon.”

“That is him,” Ashildir calls, hurling a man from the end of her spear. “We must hurry.”

Anarchaia steps out of the way of Alisbeth’s stumbling victim and leaps into the semi-circle platform at the end of the stairs. “So, the big guy? Surrounded by purple energies?”

Faljar grits his teeth as he draws more power from the stone before him, then growls at the intruders, not stopping. “I’m not in a mood for play. Leave this place or be executed.”

Alisbeth leaps from the runeseer’s shoulders as he falls down dead. She rolls and pops up beside Anarchaia. “I’m in a mood to play!”

Ashildir stands in front of the four and glares. “Faljar, you will stop this perversion at once!”

The man smirks and gives a curt laugh. “Or what? You think you and your band of children can stop me?” Faljar hurls a beam of deep violet energy at the group. “Give up, Ashildir. Your time is done.”

Anarchaia produces a large shield of arcane magic to deflect the beam, using obvious effort to hold it up. “He’s…really strong,” she grunts and grits her teeth.

“I’m on it,” Grimory calls, landing before them to attack. He’s instantly blown off his feet by another short burst from Faljar’s opposite hand. The demon hunter curses and quickly recovers to his feet, wincing.

“Stop hurting my friends!” Alisbeth screams. She leans back, then hurls her axe at the Vrykul.

Faljar bats the axe away with a laugh. “Anything else?”

Koltira glances around in desperation. “There! Grim, help me out!” He runs to the smaller pylons on either side of the larger one and hacks at it with his blade.

Grimory nods and joins Koltira in his hacking, driving his claws through the stone.

Alisbeth nose dives across the platform toward her axe. Faljar places a sturdy foot on Alisbeth’s blade and laughs, readying another bolt of energy down at her. Before he can cast, a large shard of ice shatters against his crown. He growls and hurls the bolt at Anarchaia instead, who dodges with ease.

Ashildir runs forward, but in her weakened state is easily lifted off her feet and into the air by suffocating magic. She chokes as her spear clatters to the ground.

Alisbeth grabs her axe and swings. Before the blade makes contact, a purple shield surrounds Faljar and the death knight’s weapon bounces away from him, knocking her away. Koltira leaves Grimory to finish off the pillar. He runs across the platform to the second pillar.

“Ali! Here!” Together they hack at the stone.

Grimory hides behind the pillar as a bolt of magic flies past his head. “Ana, distract him!”

The mage nods and claps her hands together. Her form splits into four copies—each begins hurling balls of orange flame at the man.

Faljar growls and deflects most of them, then returns fire when one sets his robes ablaze.

As the second pillar crumbles, Faljar uses his magic to toss Ashildir onto a pedestal bearing a purple rune. “You have sealed your fate, shieldmaiden. You and these…outsiders. Enjoy an eternity of damnation. Helheim awaits!” With that, their spirits are torn from their bodies and hurled down into a swirling vortex beneath the platform.


	29. Helheim

Alisbeth groans into the dirt as they lie in a heap. “Ow.”

Koltira unwinds himself from Grimory and sits up to take in their surroundings. Darkness and fog surrounds them. In the distance is a sea of black. Damned souls wander aimlessly, though some wail from cages or stocks. With a shock he notices his friends are ethereal; he looks down to find that he is as well.

“Everyone in one piece—more or less?”

Grimory sits upright, a hand on his forehead. He groans and shakes his head to ward off the throbbing in his skull. “Less,” he responds, getting to his feet.

Anarchaia does the same—brushing herself off and glancing around. “Well…that was less painful than I expected.” She inhales deeply and grins. “And I don’t appear to be sick anymore.” Her grin fades after a long moment and she taps her chin when her parchment and quill do not appear. “Though I appear unable to conjure anything…”

“Where did our lady friend go?” Grimory asks, eyes straining to see through the mists.

Koltira peers around for Ashildir, but his eyes fixate on something else. Alisbeth, black-haired and fair-skinned as the day he’d met her, kneels to dust herself off. He rubs the pad of a thumb and finger to his eyes and looks again, but she is still there.

“Alisbeth?” he asks cautiously.

The blood elf looks up to smile at him, noting how alive he looks as a spirit; how his eyes are a blue glow instead of a torrent of frost.

“I’m fine.”

His mouth gapes open as he stares into her green eyes, then he grabs her in a hug. She gives a delicate, gentle laugh into her fingertips.

Ashildir emerges from behind a large boulder, cracking her back and stretching her shoulders. “That was not a comfortable place to land.” She frowns. “I am sorry, little ones. You fought valiantly, but now your fate is shared with me.”

“Well, I mean, we were trying to get here anyway,” Grimory responds, looking down at his unmarred torso after realizing his old wounds are no longer ailing him. “So, no worries?”

Anarchaia rubs her gloved fingers together in fascination, brow furrowed beneath her mask. “Y-Yes.” Her attention flicks upward at the others and she lowers her hand. “…Alisbeth? What…?” She straightens at the realization that the flesh covering her fingers has returned and clears her throat. “Y-Yes!” she repeats and turns to Ashildir. “We were tasked with reprimanding Helya. This is precisely where we wanted to be.”

Grimory also stares at the other two elves, confused and interested at Alisbeth’s altered appearance. A thought claws at the back of his mind. _She looks so familiar._ “So…what’s that all about?”

Alisbeth widens her eyes at the sudden attention. “What’s what about?”

Koltira smiles and pulls some of her hair forward to show her the color. “Your eyes are green, too.”

She gapes in shock at her hair and the others for a long time. Then pushes to her feet. “We can’t stay here long,” she says gravely. “Khadgar said it would drive us mad.” She picks up her axe and sneers, then forcibly takes Byfrost from Koltira. “Trade me. That thing is…chaotic. I don’t like it.”

Grimory lifts his hands to his head to see if he’s changed at all, then gives an apathetic shrug when he finds his horns still attached to his skull.

Ashildir purses her lips. “The little death knight did not tell me this was part of your plan. But I will still help you, nonetheless. What is my worth if I do not keep my word?”

Anarchaia narrows her eyes at Alisbeth’s sudden sobriety, then give a stern nod to Ashildir. “Yes. Perhaps you can still aid us, and in return we can see that you come back with us.” She continues to fiddle with her fingers at her side as she speaks, giving another look around. “That spear should come in handy if you still have it.”

Ashildir raises her spear. The light breaks through the fog, but not nearly as effectively as before. “The fog in Helheim is thick. This is the best I can do.”

Alisbeth nods once, curtly. “It is adequate, Ashildir. Thank you.” She looks at the others, tapping her chin with the pad of her index finger. “Lead the way with the light. I will take the right, Koltira on the left. Grim, you take the rear and watch our backs. Ana in the middle. Freeze anything that moves.”

Koltira and Ashildir take their places and wait for the others. The death knight continues to stare in awe at her. She shoots him a look and he turns away to keep his eyes peeled.

The mage and demon hunter give nods of agreement and move as they’re told. “So, this is _advanced-er_ fog,” Anarchaia chuckles, rubbing at her upper arm.

“If you’re just going to make jokes on the level of your teacher in terribleness, maybe you should just shut up for this trip,” Grimory grumbles from behind her.

“Hey, at least I’m trying Mr. Serious,” Anarchaia responds sharply. “But by all means continue to be boring.”

“Quiet!” Alisbeth snaps. “We move together. We move fast. We move quietly. Do you hear me?”

Koltira gives a curt nod. “Aye.”

Ashildir mimics him. “Aye.”

Anarchaia bristles as an uncharacteristic annoyance swells within her chest. “Yes, ma’am,” she hisses in a low tone.

Grimory chuckles. “You got yelled at,” he whispers, then flinches when Anarchaia whirls around with a fist ready. He gives another chuckle when she returns to marching.

Spirits come through the fog, attracted by the shieldmaiden’s light, some harmless and others angry. “Heads up!” Alisbeth hisses. She ignores the harmless spirits, but grips her weapon as a vrykul soul comes screaming up to them, his armor rusted and covered in seaweed.

Koltira stares as if hypnotized by the red vapor rising from the mouth of the Maw. The vrykul raises his sword over the death knight. The Redblade sweeps around to catch the ghost blade and she glares at Koltira.

“Eyes open. Head on a swivel.” She smacks the back of his head with her open palm. Then she leaps past Anarchaia to stop another soul on her side. “Wake up, you guys! Ana! Where’s my ice?”

The mage turns to impale not just the attackers, but all the spirits around them with sharp spears of ice raised from the earth. She scowls beneath her mask as the survivors groan and wail in agony. “Better?”

Grimory gawks at the pillars of ice, then turns on Anarchaia. “Is _this_ what you’re capable of when you fight?! Wh-…?” He growls in frustration. “Do you realize how _annoying_ that is?”

The mage simply shrugs and carries on as though not having done anything of significance.

Alisbeth snarls at the mage. “Don’t waste your energy on unnecessary killing. Not all of those sought to harm us.” She slaps the head of the Maw down away from Koltira’s face. “Don’t listen to it. Mind on the mission.”

“I’m sorry, Ali. You were right. It’s…chaos. It wants death. It needs to feed.” His eyes fixate once more and she pushes it down again, pinching his chin in her fingertips.

“You can’t feed it if you’re staring at it. Eyes forward, farstrider.”

Ashildir stares down at the group. “Your friends are not right,” she says to Alisbeth. “Why are you not belligerent?”

Alisbeth furrows her brow. “I’m never belligerent. I feel completely normal.”

Ashildir cocks an eyebrow at the elf, then stops in her tracks.

“Why have we stopped?” Alisbeth steps around Ashildir and frowns. A huge, furry, three-headed hydra sleeps in the path.

“Guarm,” Ashildir whispers.

Anarchaia scoffs. “A puppy? I’ll take care of it.” She pushes her way past the others, fire surrounding her clenched fists.

Grimory grabs her hard by the shoulder and pulls her back. “Ana, have you completely lost it? That thing is huge,” he hisses. “Khadgar said we’d lose or minds but you’ve already gone, apparently. Get ahold of yourself.”

The mage blinks then shakes her head and places a palm on her cheek. “Y-You’re right. I’m sorry. I…don’t know what came over me.”

Alisbeth sets her hand between Anarchaia’s shoulder blades. “Ana, I need you to do something for me. I need you to try to keep a clear head for this. Can you do that?”

Anarchaia turns to Alisbeth and hesitates before giving a nod. “Yes. Of course.”

Alisbeth licks her lips. “I don’t want to ask you to do this, just so we’re clear. But I don’t see another option and you’re the least likely to get hurt.” She moves the mage and points out a path to the left of the huge hydra. “See those rocks? If we can get to them, we can pass the…dog thing.”

“Guarm,” Ashildir says again.

“Yes, Guarm. I need you to go first. Be as quiet as possible. If anything happens I want you to blink your ass back to me. Can you do that? Can the team rely on you for that?” Alisbeth sets her hands on Anarchaia’s shoulders and looks into where the girl’s eyes should be.

Anarchaia furrows her brow and the rage and irritation from before returns, but she swallows it. “How would that help the rest of you? I’d be the only one on the other side.”

Alisbeth chews on the inside of her lip. “You’re helping by making sure we _can_ get across those rocks. I’d go but if that dog wakes up it’ll kill me and come for you guys. But if _you_ go, you can be out of there before it has time to get up. We _need_ you, Ana. You’re the only one who can do this. You do trust me, right?”

The mage bites her lip to hold back the sass. “Yes,” she responds, turning to the sleeping beast. She sighs, giving one last shake of her head before slowly making her way for the opening, walking on the toes of her boots. She pauses when the dog’s breath hits her full in the face and she covers her nose in disgust. _I suddenly don’t miss being able to smell things._

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip in apprehension, absently reaching out to push the Maw back down out of Koltira’s face.

He smiles and wraps his arms over her shoulders. “I love you so much, Alisbeth.”

She smiles awkwardly and pats his hand, never taking her eyes from the mage.

Grimory watches with impatience rather than apprehension, his arms folded over his chest.

Anarchaia wedges herself between the dog’s titanic arm and the rock beside it. She easily slips through, only stopping when the beast’s snorting ceases for a brief moment. She gives a sigh of relief once past Guarm’s flank, stepping as far away from it as possible. She places her hands on her hips and grins. “Piece of cake.”

Alisbeth smiles and raises a thumbs up to Anarchaia. “Okay, guys, let’s go.”

One of the beast’s three heads snaps to attention, ears perked and alert. Its beady black eyes focus on the four before him and he growls, waking the other two as they slowly get to their feet.

Anarchaia grits her teeth and she waves her arms. “ _Run!!_ ” She throws a small, harmless shard of ice at the dog’s backside in hopes of distracting him and stiffens when one of the heads whirls around to glower at her.

Grimory sighs, claws forming beside him. “Honestly,” he grunts.

“No!” Alisbeth shouts, elbowing Grimory in the side. “Run! Go! Go!”

Ashildir spins and retreats up the path.

Alisbeth pushes at Grimory and Koltira. “Ashildir, help!”

“Come, little ones!” She scoops Koltira into one arm and Grimory in the other.

The demon hunter growls and pushes against the arm restraining him. “No! I can take him!”

Anarchaia swallows as the monster turns in its narrow clearing to face her. She squares her shoulders and glares up at him. “So be it,” she hisses. Her entire body bursts into flame. “Guess this is what I get for being cocky.” Guarm belches out a torrent of multi-colored flames over her; she throws up an arcane shield ; and strains against the impact.

“Ana, get the _hell_ out of there!” Alisbeth screams. She turns her back to Grimory and reaches her arms out as though beckoning the mage into them.

Koltira squirms in the shieldmaiden’s grasp. “Let me down! I want to see it!” His eyes focus on the glowing fire from Anarchaia and Guarm. “I just want to look at it!”

Ashildir holds the death knight tighter and lifts Grimory from his feet. “Come, little mage! It is not safe! You cannot fight him!”

“Get them out of here!” Alisbeth shouts over her shoulder to the woman.

Grimory continues to struggle as he’s carried off. “She needs help!”

“The hell I can’t,” Anarchaia laughs, shattering the shield around her and sending the shards at the monster’s face. Guarm howls in pain as one of his eyes is pierced; he sends more fire her way. She narrowly dodges and returns with her own blast of flames, smiling maniacally beneath her mask. “Twenty years,” she muses. “I can do this. No problem.”

Alisbeth growls and runs forward, throwing out her red ring beneath the creature as she shouts to grabs its attention. After a few solid smacks a shield of bone rises up to spin around the death knight. She glares over at the mage.

“Get _out_ of here, you _idiot!_ ”

Guarm rears up and stomps down, knocking her to the ground. She skitters backward and stretches for her sword, holding it up as he snaps his teeth at her. Instead of digging into her gear, her sword slips between his teeth to slice open the gums on the upper and lower part of his mouth.

“Ana, _please_ ,” Alisbeth begs, staring at the mage through Guarm’s legs. “ _RUN!_ ”

Anarchaia ignores Alisbeth’s pleading and runs forward, leaping onto the large rock beside the dog and jumping through the space between it and Guarm. She clings to his fur and summons five large spears of ice down onto the beast’s back. Guarm, one mouth filled with blood and slaver, yelps and rears again, throwing his shoulder against the rock to shake her off. The mage grunts in pain as she’s thrown back to the ground, the flames around her sputtering out. Her eyes widen as she looks up to see a massive paw ready to flatten her.

Alisbeth grabs the paw with a shadowy tendril and pulls with all her might, rolling as it comes to land where she’d been laying. Ashildir stomps forward, her hands free of the others.

“Get Ana out of here!”

Ashildir nods and runs to pick the mage up by the scruff of the neck and cart her away.

Anarchaia kicks. “No! I can handle it!”

Guarm’s heads rear back, then spits flames of purple, orange, and green at Alisbeth. The swirling bones around her shatter one-by-one. She reaches out her hand, panting, as she pulls his own life force into herself. But it’s not enough. She screams as her ghostly body dissolves in embers, leaving an ashen outline on the ground, the Redblade crossed over the ashy torso. Guarm sets his sights on the mage and the shieldmaiden.

Anarchaia sobers at the sound of Alisbeth’s screaming, watching on as the girl is burned to nothing. Trembling, she looks up with tear-filled eyes as the beast turns his attention to them. She swallows, lifts a hand, and in a flurry of sparkles the two women fade into nothingness.

Alisbeth flails on the ground for a moment before she realizes Guarm is nowhere to be seen and the swirling one-way portal into Helheim is beside her. She stops screaming and lays motionless on the ground as she stares up at the black nothingness above. “We have to get out of here,” she whispers to no one.

 

~ * ~

 

Koltira glares across the bamboo cage to Grimory. “We should be down there. We could’ve taken it.” He _harrumphs_ and folds his arms. “Didn’t need to be man-handled by a giant woman.”

The demon hunter nods and paces like a captured animal. “Your wife is super bossy,” he scoffs, slashing at the bars as he’s done a few times now. “If we’d all fought together we’d have taken him.”

Koltira purses his lips. “She is my captain. Always was, even when I outranked her in Andorhal.” He cocks an eyebrow up at Grimory’s horns, then glares back outside the bars. After a moment his eyes shoot to the horns again.

Grimory pouts, folding his arms. “I don’t care what her rank is. She’s bossy. And—”

Trying not to make any sudden movements to tip off the demon hunter, Koltira slips a gauntlet off and reaches up a hand to feel the horn.

Grimory stops when he feels a hand on his horn. He cocks his head to narrow his eyes at Koltira. “What… What are you doing?”

“Have you ever felt your horns?” Koltira asks, not bothering to stop rubbing his palm up and down the one. “They’re so…rough…but smooth at the same time. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt anything like them.”

Grimory’s lips flatten to a line and for a moment he’s unsure what to do. He finally bats Koltira’s hand away. “Everyone’s gone mad.”

Anarchaia and Ashildir fade back into existence before the men’s cage. The mage, still teary-eyed, sinks to her knees and sniffles. “It’s all my fault,” she moans, rubbing at her cheek through her mask. “Ali…”

Koltira drops his gauntlet and grabs the bars, pressing his face into one of the squares. “Ali? Where is she? What happened?”

“We… She…”

Terrified screams erupt up the path and then stop. “Alisbeth!” Koltira tears at the cage door, trying to break free.

Anarchaia jumps, jerking her head in the direction of the scream, her brow furrowing at its familiarity.

“She succumbed to Guarm’s wrath,” Ashildir explains solemnly, holding her spear with both hands, then takes a step back when Koltira rushes the bars. “However…” she stammers, wary of the group’s behavior.

“She _what_?” Koltira screams. “Get me out of here! Let me—”

“Get them out, we have to find another way around,” Alisbeth says, her face set and betraying nothing of what has just happened to her.

Anarchaia stands at Alisbeth’s voice, furrowing her brow in confusion. “But…I saw you die.”

“One cannot truly die here,” Ashildir explains. “After all, you are all already dead.” She gives a sad sort of smile down at the mage. “Albeit temporary.”

A soul in a nearby cage giggles. “There ain’t no other way ‘round.”

Alisbeth glares at him. “Helpful. Thank you.” She turns her back to him as Koltira pushes past Ashildir to run to her.

“Gotta mask the smell,” the prisoner continues, tapping the side of his finger to his nose. “Guarm smells everything. Even in his sleep.”

Alisbeth smiles at him over her shoulder as Koltira hugs her. “Very helpful. Thank you. If there is anything we can—”

“Let me out of this cage! Please!” cries another cage occupant.

Grimory steps out of his cage and lifts his eyebrows. “Oh, really? So…nothing can kill us then?”

“No, but the pain is very real,” the shieldmaiden warns. “Uncertain as to why you’d want to submit yourself to suffering.”

Alisbeth squares her jaw. “The pain is one-hundred percent real.” She pushes Koltira from her, but he remains close and strokes her hair with his ungloved hand. “We need a plan. Something to hide our smell. Any…” She sighs and pinches her eyes closed, preparing for exasperation. “Any ideas?”

The mage returns to rubbing her thumb and forefingers together at her side and gives a glance around, still recovering from the shock of seeing a friend incinerated. “Seaweed,” she mumbles, bending down to grab a fistful from a pile. “Smells pretty rancid…and it’s everywhere.”

Ashildir sneers at the seaweed. “What are you proposing we—”

“We wear it,” Alisbeth says, eyeing the vrykul souls with the plants stuck in their rusting armor. “Wrap it around ourselves like a blanket. That’s brilliant, Ana!”

Anarchaia scowls as though she’s been insulted, the trauma fading. “I know,” she scoffs, wrapping the seaweed about herself like a scarf and crinkling her nose at the smell.

Grimory does the same, stuffing some in his boots and belt. “ _Brilliant_ isn’t the word I’d use.” He rubs at his eyes, pain beginning to crawl its way into his skull from the stress. “We need to get out of here.”

Alisbeth slaps away Koltira’s hands as he tries to dress her in seaweed. “And what word would you use, Grimory?” She slaps the death knight away again. “I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself. You, however, are missing a glove. Where is it?” She rubs her face as he goes to retrieve his gauntlet. “We need to get out of here _now_.”

She sighs and lets Koltira wrap the plants around her, then helps cover him in them as well. The whole time growing more painfully aware of how Koltira and Anarchaia seem to be worsening by the minute, while Grimory only seems as frustrated as herself.

“I dunno. Something less flattering,” he hisses in Anarchaia’s direction. “Something that won’t stroke her already huge ego?”

The mage scowls in return, fists clenched. “Oh, so I’m not allowed to be aware of my own intelligence? My abilities? Sounds to me like you’re just jealous.” She stomps over to him. “Need I remind you of the victor of every duel we’ve had? Every game we’ve played?” She grits her teeth and pokes him hard in the sternum. “The only thing huge here is your— _hggrk!_ ”

Grimory pulls his claws out of Anarchaia’s gut and watches her double over to the ground. He glances at Ashildir once again. “You’re sure we can’t die, right?”

Alisbeth leaps between the two, eyes wide with shock. “Stop that! What the _hell_ has gotten into you?” She stoops to assess the damage done to Anarchaia. “And yes. I died and went right back to the beginning.”

Ashildir nods. “The little death knight is right. We are already dead, so we cannot die permanently. How else could Helya trap her souls in here if they could escape merely by dying?”

Grimory gives a triumphant grin. “Good.” He leans down to glower at the mage behind Alisbeth’s back. “You remember that.”

Anarchaia gives a weak gurgle in response, an arm over her profusely bleeding stomach. She makes to say something, but is distracted by the fluid surrounding her. A smile spreads across her face. “It’s red,” she chokes before losing all strength and falling limp.

Grimory claps his hands together as though having completed something significant. “Welp, let’s get going. Preferably before she comes back.”

Koltira stares at the demon hunter in shock, his mouth agape. He drops to his knees and lifts Anarchaia’s spirit from the pool of blood. “Ana? _Ana?_ ” Her figure fades in his arms, leaving nothing but the crimson puddle behind.

Alisbeth spins on Grimory and grabs one of his horns. She smashes the side of his head against the cage and glares at him. Grimory yelps in pain as his head is struck against the bars. He growls and grabs Alisbeth’s arm with a mutated claw, readying himself to attack her, too.

“We don’t have time for this! I get that you have jealousy issues with her and my husband, but this is _not_ the time to go bringing it up.”

“It had nothing to do with—”

She hits his head against the cage again. “Now fall in line.”

“ _Agh!_ Stop!” He stumbles back when he’s released, rubbing his head and in agony. “No one made you the fucking boss,” he snaps. He opens his mouth to say something more, but is met with a fist to the jaw.

“ _Asshole!_ ” Anarchaia barks, fire at the ready. “I should fry you right here and now!” The fires die out and she turns away, a hand over her chest. “But I’m better than that.”

“Oh, then shall we change leaders? Let’s see, who hasn’t killed a party member yet?” Alisbeth, Ashildir and Koltira raise their hands.

Anarchaia keeps her hand lowered, still feeling responsible for Alisbeth’s death. “I didn’t want to lead anyway,” she mumbles. “I’m obviously overqualified.”

Grimory spits at the dirt and folds his arms. “Then lead the way, _o valiant leader_.”

Koltira furrows his brow. “What about me?”

Alisbeth’s jaw tenses. “You want to lead?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Where should we go?” She folds her arms under her bust and rests on a hip.

Koltira stares over her shoulder. “Over there.”

She turns her head then stares incredulously at him. “That’s the opposite direction from where we want to go. Why would we go that way?”

Koltira shrugs and smiles. “The way those lanterns hit the fog is really pretty.”

Alisbeth breathes several heavy breaths through her nose and swallows a frustrated scream. “Get back into formation. All of you. We’re leaving Helheim. _Now._ ”

Anarchaia and Grimory cast disgusted glares at one another before doing as they’re told. Grimory glances down at the mage in front of him, thoughts racing through his mind of slicing her open again and how easy it’d be.

He clenches his jaw. “This is stupid. It probably won’t work.”

“Grim? Be a doll and shut up. Let’s go.”

Ashildir lights the way as the group moves along the path at a steady place. They reach Guarm and Ashildir stops. “Be quiet, now, little ones. I don’t know how his ears do.”

“Hold your breath if you have to,” Alisbeth hisses through her teeth. She sidesteps and stoops to retrieve her sword from the charred outline of herself.

Anarchaia folds her arms and once again does as she’s told, smirking at the dog’s injured eye as they pass.

Grimory rolls his eyes but otherwise makes no signs of objection, keeping quiet until the party is safely on the other side.

Alisbeth scans the new area as she shrugs off her seaweed.

“Such a revolting disguise!” Ashildir complains. “My armor still reeks of seaweed!”

Koltira laughs beside her, picking pieces of plant from his armor. “At least we didn’t get eaten?”

Anarchaia throws off her makeshift scarf and shudders. “Where to next?” She glances ahead on the path. “Up the steps I presume?”

“Obviously,” Grimory snaps. “Look, there’s some sort of altar at the top, overlooking the sea.”

“I noticed,” Anarchaia retorts. “I was asking the leader. Not you, Sir Kills-alot.”

Alisbeth casts her gaze to Ashildir. “What sort of being is Helya?”

“A sea witch,” the shieldmaiden replies.

“Then we head to the altar. Can you guys behave yourselves that long? Please?”

“Anything for you, my love.” Koltira wraps his arm around her waist.

She gives him a tired smile. “Thank you. It means a lo—”

“Oh my gods, look at that!” Koltira runs off after a light in the mists. Alisbeth sighs and frowns at her feet before taking off after him.

Grimory gives a light chuckle at Alisbeth’s expense and follows after.

The party passes a large clearing in which a behemoth rampages around, attacking as well as fending off a multitude of vrykul men. It is much too distracted to bother with the group as they pass. The ground shakes with each step it takes and it roars as it hurls souls off itself.

“Koltira!” Alisbeth catches up to him and drags him down by the back of his cuirass. “We’re almost out. Please stay with the group. Just a little farther, okay?”

He furrows his brow. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was…” He presses a palm to his forehead and closes his eyes. “You’re right. We should keep going.”

Grimory scoffs when he catches up, rolling his eyes once more. “This is tedious. I’ll see you all up there.” He extends his wings and leaps from the ground, gliding his way toward the altar.

Anarchaia glowers after him. “Good, we were sick of your shit anyway.” She pushes on past the other three and onto the stairs ahead.

Koltira stands and dusts himself off. “Those two are going mad.”

Alisbeth purses her lips and just nods. “Yes. That’s why we need to hurry.”

Ashildir waves to them as she follows the mage. “Come, little ones. We are nearly free from this place.”

Anarchaia bounds up the steps as quickly as she can, using her magic to throw anything in her way off the short cliff. Along the way, a broken vase covered in moist dust catches her eye. She pauses and wipes away the grime, then, with a shaking hand, pushes her mask up above her mouth and nose. A gasp fills her lungs at the sight of her porcelain white skin and glossy pink lips. She pushes the mask up further but only catches a glimpse of her two, intact eyes before the sound of the others following causes her to reflexively cover her face once more. She turns and continues up the steps. When she finally gets to the top she opens her mouth to reprimand Grimory but is instead met with a stories-tall woman made of skin and scale.

“Look, I activated the shrine,” Grimory sneers, arms folded.

Alisbeth lowers her eyebrows in annoyance as Koltira runs ahead to meet the other two. He leans his elbow on Grimory’s shoulder and settles in a casual pose. “‘Sup?” He jerks his chin at the demon hunter.

Alisbeth stands beside Ashildir and tries to look braver than the huge woman makes her feel. “Helya. We bring a message.”

“Are you going to touch my horn again?” Grimory whispers cautiously to Koltira, tilting his head away as though he already knows the answer.

Koltira raises his eyebrows in complete innocence. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

“Oh I’m certain you do,” Helya calls, her voice reverberating through land and sea alike. “It’s a shame I do not associate myself with the pleas of vermin. Your souls are here, and here they shall stay.”

Alisbeth grits her teeth as the voice shakes her. She glances over at Anarchaia, wondering if it would be a better idea for her to communicate with the goddess, since the elf’s memories on the subject seem a little fractured.

Koltira raises his other hand as slow as possible then taps the very tip of Grimory’s horn with his fingertip. “Touch.”

Grimory growls and shoves the man away, claws at the ready once again. “ _Don’t touch._ ”

Anarchaia catches Alisbeth’s eye and gives a frustrated sigh. She steps forward and straightens her spine. “Helya,” she calls with Odyn’s voice instead of her own. “You’ve become unjust in your rule. Free the souls that you have no dominion over and stop this abuse of power, or face the consequences.”

The sea witch pauses before bursting with laughter. “So you’ve spoken with Odyn?” Her fanged mouth stretches in a grin. “Very well, _champions_.” She points a long, clawed finger at the foot of the cliffs, to the giant still battling countless spirits. “Those who defeat Geir are permitted exit from Helheim.”

Koltira laughs. “You’re not supposed to fight me, remember?” He reaches out and slaps Grimory’s horn.

Grimory gives another growl and lunges at Koltira, tackling him to the ground. He aims a blow to his face, but is lifted completely off the ground by violet light.

Anarchaia scoffs as she holds the Illidari at her mercy. “Animals. All of you.”

Alisbeth clears her throat. “Surely there must be a more peaceful way, Helya? After all, wouldn’t a benevolent ruler accrue a more devoted following than a malevolent one?”

Helya gives another laugh. “Foolish girl. What part of _vermin_ did you not follow? I needn’t even waste my time talking with you, yet here I am. Take the deal or remain here for eternity.”

Alisbeth grabs Koltira by the back of his cuirass as he goes chasing after the restrained demon hunter. “This is your realm, Helya. We will obey your rules.”

“All of us will be released, yes?” Ashildir asks. “What of the other souls?”

“The other souls are _mine_ ,” Helya growls and waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve given them the same opportunity I’ve given you, and none have prevailed. Now go, before I change my mind.”

Alisbeth pulls Koltira away by the hand and waves the others to follow. “Well, you guys heard her. We’re killing that thing.” She sets her sights on the silhouette of the giant stomping through the bone field.

Grimory grunts in annoyance as he’s set down and released. He adjusts his belt and glares at Anarchaia. “Good. Some action.”

“Like you don’t get plenty,” the mage snaps, following the other three.

When the party reaches the circular clearing, the sound of cries of battle and agony ring throughout. Geir stomps past, throwing spirits from his coat and trampling them underfoot.

“Plan?” Anarchaia groans at Alisbeth.

She blinks, bringing herself back to the moment. “Take him down. Cripple his legs.” She runs for the giant’s legs, swinging at his kneecap.

Geir roars in annoyance as Alisbeth’s blade scrapes across his knee.

Anarchaia runs ahead, summoning a long whip made of fire. She throws it around Geir’s ankle. However, she lacks the strength to do much and is thrown across the clearing like a ragdoll. Koltira races sideways, his arms stretched wide to catch her. He wraps his arms around her waist and they both fall to the ground, the mage sat atop his lap.

“Hi,” he says sheepishly.

She quickly scrambles to her feet and clears her throat into a fist. "Thank you," she says quietly while straightening, then turns and returns to the fray in a flustered huff.

Grimory takes flight, blowing fel fire in the giant’s face, blinding him temporarily. A large hand comes up to swat him away as one would a gnat; he narrowly dodges.

Ashildir pulls her arm back, teetering to gather strength. She springs forward, launching her spear toward the giant’s eye; it pops like a grape, raining clear liquid and blood down on Alisbeth and Koltira. Geir roars in pain and pulls the spear from his socket, then throws it on the ground like a toothpick.

Koltira smiles dreamily after the mage. A skull flies past his head, bringing him back to the present. The death knight runs behind the giant to swing the maw back and forth across the back of its ankle. Alisbeth works the Redblade across the other, but is quickly scooped up and held in a fist so tight she cannot breathe. He throws her; the shieldmaiden runs to catch her. They fall to the ground in a heap as the Maw’s spikes rake through one final time to sever the giant’s Achilles tendon. Geir drops to his knee and screams out, reaching behind him to find what had injured him. He wraps Koltira in his fist and throws the high elf into a rock wall.

Anarchaia grits her teeth in half-irritation, half-concern and blinks back into the fray before she collides with the cliffside. Out in front of the massive man, she winds up and, from her palms, conjures a massive vortex of fire into Geir’s face. The monster stumbles back onto his rear, rubbing the ash and burnt flesh from his face.

Grimory swoops down and slashes at the giant’s throat with his sharpened claws. The flesh slashes open but the wound is not deep enough to open the esophagus; Geir merely grabs the demon hunter with a hand before crushing him into the bone-strewn ground.

Alisbeth growls as Koltira runs to her side. An idea springs to her mind and she takes the Redblade in one hand and her Maw in the other. She swallows back her anticipation and turns to the shieldmaiden. “Toss me.”

“What?” Ashildir and Koltira demand in unison.

“Toss. Me. _Now!_ ”

Ashildir lifts Alisbeth and spins, throwing her forward like a shotput. The blood elf grits her teeth and swings to dig the spiked ends of each weapon into the beast. She sticks successfully, finding herself dangling from Geir’s shoulder. Using the weapons like ice picks, she climbs up then swings the Redblade to deepen the wound Grimory had made.

Blood pours forth from Geir’s neck and he falls back. The spirits around converge on the giant, hacking at his body with hatchets and swords. Grimory stumbles back to his feet and winces in pain. He stumbles again when the behemoth rumbles the ground. He runs around and dig his claws into Geir’s skull. The muscles in his arms swell and mutate; bony spikes pierce his skin as he pulls with all his might.

Alisbeth scrambles to her feet to view the giant, then notices the demon hunter. “Grim, stop! What are you doing?”

“Getting proof,” he growls, the muscles in his torso creaking as they tear. His horns curl outward and the tattoos on his chest illuminate the fog around him. He gives one final shout of vigor before ripping Geir’s head clean from his body. Holding the massive, bloody thing above him like a trophy, he grins triumphantly at Alisbeth, gnarled fangs overlapping his lips.

“Proof for what? I’m sure Helya saw us!”

Eyes wide with fascination, Koltira creeps up behind the distracted man, then reaches up with an uncovered hand to feel the longer horns.

Noticing Koltira on the edges of his vision, Grimory turns to hurl the gigantic head at him with an ethereal roar. “ _I said no touching!_ ”

Feeling a sudden sense of obligation, Anarchaia runs forward to grab the object with her magic. She strains under the weight of it and is only able to slow it some before it flies from her grasp, continuing its path.

Koltira dodges back, but the skull flattens him into the bone littered ground.

Alisbeth leaps between them, fighting back tears. “Don’t!” She begs Grimory. “Let’s just leave, please.”

The demon hunter lowers his stance like a lion ready to pounce. “Or else what?” His feet skid across the dirt as he makes to attack Alisbeth as well, but in a flash of light and smoke, the half-demon is reduced to nothing more than a bewildered sheep. It bleats angrily and charges Alisbeth anyway.

Anarchaia folds her arms and shakes her head. “Animals,” she repeats.

Koltira pounces on the sheep and laughs as he lifts it onto his shoulder. “Like catching murlocs with Faltora.”

Alisbeth sighs in relief to see Koltira isn’t badly injured, and beckons the others to head for the platform.

Anarchaia takes the sheep out of Koltira’s grasp and into a magic bubble, then settles it to float behind her. “He won’t be this way long. I can’t trust you’ll know what to do when the enchantment breaks. We have to hurry.” She pushes the man and Alisbeth toward the staircase.

“Helya!” Alisbeth shouts as she races up the steps. “We have passed your test. Release us, now.”

“Unworthy!” The voice booms back at them before Helya appears, glaring down at them. “You will stay in Helheim. Your souls are mine!”

Despite the witch’s words, five pillars of light burst forth around the altar, leading upward toward the sea of black above. Ashildir laughs at Helya’s bewildered expression.

“It seems even you are forced to honor your word, sea witch.”

Before Helya can retort or stop them, Ashildir steps into the light and ascends upward.

“Come, little ones! Before it’s too late!”

Anarchaia throws the sheep into its perspective light and waits idly at the back for Koltira and Alisbeth to do the same.

Koltira spins to take Alisbeth by the shoulders. “I have a better idea. Let’s stay.” He nods and smiles, his eyes pleading.

Alisbeth shakes her head. “No. We don’t belong here. Go, I’m right behind you.”

Koltira eases them away from the pillars. “But, this is how we should be. Look at you! You’re alive. You’re so beautiful. I can’t leave you again.”

She frowns and hugs him. “We’re not alive, Koltira. Not here, not there. Never again.” She gives him a hard shove into the light and sighs as it carries him away.

 

~ * ~

Grimory inhales sharply as he sits up, chest heaving as he takes large gulps of air into his newly awoken lungs. He coughs and stands, grabbing at his horns and looking down at himself. After a sigh of relief, he looks over to the lifeless bodies of his three friends as they lie peacefully below the iron crosses made of retired swords. Memory returning, he lowers to sitting and watches and waits for the others.

Koltira’s eyes snap open and whirl around to take in his surroundings. He sits upright with a yell, batting at the air. He grunts as he sees Grimory watching, then pulls himself to sit outside the small mass grave they’d been sharing.

Grimory looks away as Koltira returns, embarrassment filling his chest and cheeks. The cool wind of an oncoming storm breezes through the graves as they wait. Two minutes pass. Five. The demon hunter furrows his brow and crawls closer to the girls’ bodies, inspecting for possible signs of life. He sits back in the stones and grass when he sees none.

“What’s taking so long?” he mutters.

Koltira looks up from stroking Alisbeth’s hair. “I… They were right behind me.” Knowing that neither would show any real signs of life, he lifts their arms and watches them fall to the dirt. His dark lips purse together and he sits back. “I’m sure they’ll be up any minute.” The awkward silence draws between them for several minutes before the death knight clears his throat. “I won’t talk about it if you won’t.”

“Agreed.” Grimory runs a hand over his side to feel his closing wound; the dull pain reminds him that he is, in fact, alive. He glances down at Anarchaia and cringes at the memory of plunging his claws into her belly. _How could I have been so terrible?_

As if in response, the mage shoots upward, kicking Grimory in the face and scrambling away like a frightened animal. She turns, a hand full of fire and breath heavy, then gives a sigh of relief followed by a few coughs and sinks to her knees. “I-I’m back,” she breathes, fingers snaking under her mask to probe at the empty socket beneath. Her other eye wells with tears and she throws her hands back into her lap in frustration. “No,” she moans, her palms coming back up to cover her face.

Grimory also gives a sigh, rubbing at his aching jaw. “Welcome back,” he grunts sarcastically, blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

Koltira eyes Alisbeth’s motionless body for a minute, then turns his gaze to the mage. “Where is she?” He takes Anarchaia by the shoulders, trying to be gentle through his panic.

Anarchaia lowers her hands to look up at him and sniffles. “She was right behind me,” she hiccups, then stifles another sob at the memory. “Oh Gods, I was so terrible. She should have left me there on common principle alone.”

Minutes pass and Koltira lifts the other death knight’s body to hold in his arms, muttering to her. “What did you do to her, Ana?” he shouts, reaching an angry hand at the mage.

Anarchaia skitters back, away from Koltira’s hand. “N-Nothing!” she cries. “She was right behind me, I swear!”

Grimory reaches between the gap to grab Koltira firmly by the elbow. “That’s enough. She’ll be back. Just be patient.”

 

~ * ~

Alisbeth turns to the mage and smiles. “After you.”

Anarchaia doesn’t budge, her arms tightening against her chest. “No, I insist.”

The hair on the back of Alisbeth’s neck stands on end as her nerves scream. Her smile doesn’t waver. “Let’s go together.” She reaches out to take Anarchaia’s hand.

Anarchaia, again, does nothing, staring at the death knight from behind her mask. “No.”

The elf’s smile falls. “Why not?”

Anarchaia grits her teeth and turns her head away as though offended by the question. “I like it here. I’m whole again.” She turns back to Alisbeth. “I’m staying.”

The death knight takes her by the elbow. “What do you mean you’re whole?”

Anarchaia wrenches her arm free. “It’s none of your business,” she snaps. “Just go.” Her hands ignite into balls of flame. “Or I’ll see to it that _neither_ of us leave here.”

Alisbeth holds up her hands, palms to the mage. “Ana, please. We need to go.”

“ _Then go!_ ” She hurls a bolt of fire at Alisbeth’s feet to get her to move.

The elf leaps away, then dives back at the mage to grab her. Anarchaia growls. She blinks away, then turns to aim another blast at Alisbeth herself.

Alisbeth holds the Redblade over herself to block the flame. A small amount surges around the blade and singes her cheek. “Don’t make me fight you!”

“Then go!” Anarchaia throws another flame Alisbeth’s way. “No one’s keeping you here! Just leave!”

“Not without you!” The flame smashes against Alisbeth’s stomach. She winces at the heat, then pats out the ignited areas. “You’re my friend!”

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Anarchaia steps a foot back as though to attack again but does not. “We’ve known one another for-what?-a couple weeks? You know nothing about me.”

“Fine, we’re not friends. But I’m not leaving you down here.” Alisbeth reaches a shadowy tendril forward to grip the mage to her. She wraps her arms around Anarchaia and hauls her toward the pillars of light.

“ _No!_ ” Anarchaia’s body bursts into flames as she flails. “ _I’m staying!_ ”

Alisbeth drops the mage and yelps, patting furiously at herself to put out any residual fires. The death knight growls and reaches out to grab Anarchaia around the throat and hurl her down the stairs. “You want to stay? Fight me for it.”

Anarchaia stumbles down the first few stairs before recovering and scrambling to her feet. She turns sharply and throws a beam of fire at Alisbeth, the foremost part taking the shape of a bird as it sails toward its target.

“Heh! You think you can beat _me_?” She laughs.

Alisbeth encases herself in a red shell, allowing the fiery bird to explode against it, shattering the shell to the ground at Alisbeth’s feet. The blood elf raises her sword and leaps down at Anarchaia, swinging to remove her right arm.

The mage ducks away from the swing and, while crouched, aims a fist at the side of Alisbeth’s knee as it’s the only unarmored place she can see.

The death knight screams out as her knee bends backward. She loses her footing and tumbles the rest of the way down the stairs. Limping, she lifts the mage into the air across the distance, suffocating the magic from her as she makes her way back. Anarchaia chokes as her throat his forcibly closed and she’s lifted off the ground. Alisbeth swings wide to take off one of the legs flailing in the air beneath the robes. The mage’s eyes water and widen as she looks down at the blade arcing toward her legs. She desperately attempts to move her leg out of its path, but the blade slices through the flesh of her thigh and she cries out in agony. Not able to do much else, she kicks at Alisbeth’s face with her uninjured leg.

The elf takes the mage’s boot to her face, the cartilage of her nose cracks and she falls to the steps below and screams out in agony.

Anarchaia inhales gratefully and winces as she stands, blood pooling around her foot.

Alisbeth pushes to her feet, eyes watering and blood streaming from her broken nose. She wipes it from her mouth and shakes it to the stones at her feet. With a cry of anger, she rushes the mage, sword raised and ready to swing for the other leg.

The mage gasps as she looks up to see the sword coming down at her, having not expected Alisbeth to recover so quickly. She cries out again as her other thigh is sliced into. Her feet fumble to move out of the way and she stumbles to the ground with two injured legs. She lifts a hand to throw a large, icy spike at the death knight in an attempt to defend herself from another attack.

Alisbeth throws herself to the steps, the sharp corner digs into her ribs as she hits her nose against the stone and screams in pain again. Rather than dwelling on her own pain, she scrambles for the mage to punch at the wounds in her thighs.

Anarchaia rolls out of the way completely, but groans at the pain in her bleeding legs. Losing strength, she hurls two more spikes of ice at Alisbeth with trembling hands. “ _Why don’t you just go?_ ”

The spikes both strike the death knight on her chest. They shatter her breastplate with their cold impact and knock her back down the steps. Alisbeth hisses at the impact, then drags Anarchaia down with a shadowy grip. Blood swirls through the air between then in a line leading from the mage to the elf. Her nose pops back into place and her injuries heal. Anarchaia grits her teeth tightly together and can do nothing but endure the pain as her own life force is drawn from her being. Alisbeth stands, throwing a quick silence on the girl, then reaching to drag her back up the stairs.

She collapses to the ground and weakly lifts a hand to cast more magic only to find her voice gone. Instead she pushes weakly at the death knight, sparkles invading her vision. “No…” she groans. “Don’t…send me back…”

“Why?” Alisbeth demands. “Why would you want to stay here and slowly go crazier every day? You stay here, you forfeit your right to ever see Grim or Khadgar again.” She stops in front of the pillars to look into the mage’s mask. “Is that really what you want?”

Anarchaia swallows between shallow breaths. “Yes,” she responds with little thought. “Neither of them really care about _me_ ,” she wheezes. “Why should I care about _them_?”

Alisbeth shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.” She shoves Anarchaia into a pillar of light. “I’m right behind you,” she says.

Alisbeth steps to her pillar, then stops. She removes a gauntlet and looks at her hand, full and pink with life. She takes off her other glove and runs her fingers through her hair, smiling at the thickness and silkiness she’d lost so many years ago. Whispers fill her mind, beckoning her. She backs away from the light and follows the sound down to the black water below. Kneeling down, she leans over to look at her reflection. She smiles at the woman she barely recognizes anymore.

_“Ssstayy wiiith ussss.”_

Alisbeth recoils from the water as seaweed-covered skeletal arms reach for her. She blinks as her mind clears, then tears up the steps and hurls herself into the pillar of light before the whispers can call to her again.


	30. Chapter 30

Alisbeth moans and stretches her arms over her head. “I had the weirdest dream.” She smiles up at Koltira. “And you were there.” She points at Grimory and Anarchaia. “And you were there and you were there!” She laughs and snuggles against the other death knight’s chest.

“You have awoken!” Ashildir steps out from behind the tree she’d settled under, body still shimmering with light. “That is good. For a while I thought you would not return.”

Alisbeth leaps to her feet. “And you were there! Hi!” She waves excitedly at Ashildir.

Grimory stands and stretches his back, once he feels the stress of waiting ebb away. “I think we thought the same.”

Anarchaia gives Koltira one last glance before getting to her feet as well, rubbing at her good eye. “We didn’t accomplish what we set out to do, though.”

Koltira casts an apologetic gaze at Anarchaia. “I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the mage says in a tone more sad than angry. “We’re all sorry.” She returns her attention to Ashildir. “I’m sorry we couldn’t repair your soul. I’m sure as long as Faljar remains upright you’ll remain this way.”

Ashildir gives a solemn smile. “It is all right, little mage. You tried your best, and for that, I am grateful.”

“Can’t we just go kill him now?” Grimory grumbles.

“And risk going back to Helheim?” Anarchaia shoots him a disgusted look.

“Wait…” Alisbeth furrows her brow. “You guys had the same dream, too?”

Koltira chuckles and shakes his head. “It wasn’t a dream, Ali.”

“So…I really did save all of you from certain doom?” she asks.

Koltira purses his lips and nods.

“I’m _awesome!_ ”

Koltira looks up at the shieldmaiden. “If there is anything we can do for you, please let us know. It’s the least we can do.”

Ashildir taps the end of her spear to the ground beside her. “I would say you have done all you can,” she responds sadly. “I will be here if you develop any new ideas.” She looks out over the ocean. “For now, I fear, a terrible storm is headed this way. Best you four find shelter.”

Anarchaia gives a nod. “You’re right. Take care of yourself, Ashildir.” She gives a curt wave and turns toward the nearby path back to Valdisdall.

Grimory gives the shieldmaiden a nod of respect and follows his companion.

Alisbeth runs over to take the shieldmaiden’s hand and smile up at her. “Bye Aslan! I’m so glad we got to dream that together. It was really fun!”

Ashildir cocks an eyebrow at her. “You are a brave little death knight. Go with your friends, now.”

“Okay!” Alisbeth runs back to Koltira, who bends slightly at the waist in respect to Ashildir, before following the other two.

Anarchaia pulls out her map. “If we’re where I think we are, Valdisdall should be nearby.” She gives a glance at the oncoming clouds again. “But I don’t think we’ll make it in time.”

“We have tents,” Grimory says casually. “Pretty sturdy ones.”

“No, I’m going to teleport us back,” Anarchaia responds, stowing the map again. “But I’m kinda low on mana after…all that. The illness doesn’t help either.” She chuckles dryly. “I may go back just to rid myself of this cold.”

Alisbeth purses her lips and rubs her nose. “Please don’t,” she says quietly.

“If getting us out of the rain is going to send you back into sleeping for a day, I’d rather you didn’t. There has to be another solution,” Koltira says.

“ _We have tents,_ ” Grimory repeats louder. “ _Pretty sturdy ones._ ”

Anarchaia sighs and looks around for a decent, safe spot to set up said tents. “I guess we have to. This may not be the safest place but there are plenty of trees around.” She glances at the death knights. “And you two are walking lighting rods.” She lifts her hands and their hide tent appears, bundled in a roll. “Grim, hold out your arms.”

The demon hunter does so and they’re filled with a larger, heavier bundle. He fumbles to hold it, not expecting the weight.

The two only take minutes erecting the tents, repetition causing swiftness.

Alisbeth doesn’t wait, immediately shoving her way into the smaller tent and curling into a little ball in the middle.

“I’m gonna get firewood,” Anarchaia says. “Even in the rain I should be able to keep one going.”

Koltira cocks an eyebrow. “Do we really need a fire?”

“I enjoy being warm and dry,” Grimory says, digging a shallow hole with his boot. “I know dead people don’t particularly mind, but…”

Koltira shrugs. “I’ll give you the dry part. Don’t care either way on the warm.”

Grimory gives a shiver at the mild wind filtering through the trees. “It seems we’ve reached an impasse,” he says, using his claws to slash down a small tree. He sits on it like a makeshift bench. “Maybe there’s nothing more we _can_ do.” He glances at Alisbeth in the tent, recalling how she’d been. “If we couldn’t convince Helya…”

Koltira nods absently, then shrugs. “Maybe Odyn will have another plan. We should go back to him tomorrow.”

In the midst of picking up twigs and dried leaves, Anarchaia pulls the communication crystal from the pack behind her hip. She holds out her palm and the shard hovers above it. “Hey. Are you busy?”

“Always,” comes Khadgar’s weathered voice through the glowing stone. “I see you’ve finally decided to get in contact with me.”

“Finally? It’s been a day. I said I would try.”

“It’s been a _week_ , Ana.”

“Whuh…a _week?_ ”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Oh gods. Time must not… I-In Helheim…”

A tired sigh emanated through the crystal. “Right. I’ll take your word for it. Despite leaving me to, once again, think you were dead, I’m curious: how was Helheim, then?”

“It was an… _experience_. Heh.”

“I imagine. I’m glad you’re intact, at least. Did you accomplish what you’d been sent to?” he responds.

“Not exactly.” Anarchaia gives a nervous chuckle.

“Hm. Well. Perhaps speak with Odyn again. If he decides there’s nothing more you can do, then there’s nothing more you can do.”

“I suppose.” She sighs, wanting to say more but her tongue failing. She fidgets. “Well. I’ll keep you posted. Enjoy…whatever it is you’re doing. Have a good night.”

“You as, well, Ana. Stay safe.”

Stowing the crystal and picking up her pile of foliage, she makes her way back to the others.

“That’s an idea,” Grimory says with a nod. “Hey, Ana,” he calls out to her when she returns with a bundle of sticks. “Koltira says we should talk with Odyn again.”

Anarchaia nods and tosses the twigs into the hole Grimory had made. They ignite into a quiet crackle. “Master said similar. That sounds like a good idea.” She frowns. “As long as he keeps his hands to himself.”

“Someone else could speak to him instead,” the death knight suggests. “Maybe Grim can fly up and do the talking.”

“I’m not much of a talker,” Grimory says with a grin. “And I _do_ like seeing Ana freak out. Why would I pass that up?”

The mage shoots Grimory an exasperated look from behind her mask. “Oh, you’re too kind.” She sighs and holds her hands out to the fire. When it doesn’t warm her fingers, she frowns and lowers them again. “I’m sorry for how I acted. It was…really inappropriate. And embarrassing.”

“We all went a little mad,” Koltira says, clearing his throat. “Khadgar did warn us that we would. I personally didn’t expect it to happen so fast. Nor did I expect my own…actions.”

Grimory admits to nothing and warms his hands against the flames. The image of Anarchaia’s dying body resurfaces and he shakes it away. “No use dwelling on it now. What’s done is done. We know that wasn’t the true you…or you.” His stomach gives a groan and he rummages through his pack for a ration before shoving the end in his mouth.

Anarchaia nods and gives Koltira a sideways glance. “So…Ali. Was that how she used to be?”

Koltira says nothing for a long time, then sighs at the fire. “She was a very disciplined leader. Too young to be a captain, but skilled enough for it. When something needed done, her head was on that task alone. And she cared about us—her troops—and made sure everyone was taken care of.” He smirks as humor twinkles in his eye. “And then there were her pranks…”

Anarchaia raises her eyebrows and tilts her head, glad to see a friend smile after their ordeal. “Oh?”

“She was shameless. Nothing was off limits. She even used her dead parents to trick me. And you’d never know she’d done it unless you caught her laughing over it. Always harmless pranks, though, to liven the troops.” He stretches out on his back to stare up at the cloudy sky. “And it worked. As long as you didn’t let your pride get in the way, it was always worth the laugh.”

Anarchaia purses her lips but allows her voice to betray her concern over the morbidity of dead loved ones and jokes pertaining to them. “Sounds fun. Though it seems that aspect of her hasn’t changed much.”

Grimory furrows his brow. “How…What? Dead parents? For a _joke_?”

Koltira widens his eyes at the demon hunter’s outburst. “It was innocent enough. She was…trying to get me into one of those…” he sneers, “Winter Veil sweaters. She told me how she and her parents would spend the day wearing them in Ironforge. The sweater was the only part of that tale which was a lie.” He glares at the memory.

“Winter Veil sweaters?” The mage’s eyes light up and she looks at Grimory, mouth open in excitement.

“No,” he growls when he notices. “You know my head doesn’t fit.”

Alisbeth leans out of the tent, realizing they’re talking about her. She grabs a pebble and throws it at Grimory’s head. “They were _my_ parents. I can do what I want with their memory. It’s what they would’ve wanted!”

Grimory flinches as the small rock bounces off his horn with a _thunk!_. He narrows his eyes at her. “Still. That’s awfully macabre.”

Alisbeth removes one of her shoulder pads and lobs that at him. “It was _not!_ ” She crawls back into the tent muttering about how they were her parents and that horn-heads don’t get a say.

Grimory leans far to one side to dodge the thrown armor.

Koltira chuckles after her and shakes his head. “They died when she was young, I don’t think it bothers her as much as it would others. She was taken in by the paladins until she reached adulthood.”

“I’ve never even met my parents and I still wouldn’t joke about them being dead or anything similar,” the demon hunter replies.

Anarchaia merely listens, her fingers clenching against her knees as she stares into the fire.

“Well, I suppose it’s different for everyone.” Koltira shrugs and returns his gaze to the black clouds overhead.

Grimory chews on his ration and turns his gaze to Anarchaia. After a moment of studying her rigid posture, he grits his fangs. “Oh, that’s right. Sorry, Ana.”

“It’s all right,” she waves a hand. “That was twenty years ago. Heh. Totally…” She clears her throat. “Totally over it.”

The demon hunter sets his eyes to the skies above, quickly looking for a change of topic in the clouds. “Do you think Odyn is going to have us go back down there?”

The death knight says nothing, his mind refusing to even humor such a scenario.

“My intuition is saying _probably_ ,” Anarchaia responds, frowning. “But we’ll need to be more prepared next time.” She coughs into a fist. “If he does, that is.”

Grimory remains silent for several moments before shaking his head. “I’m not going back there. No matter what he says. That was insanity.”

“None of us should go back,” Koltira says. “If there is no other way for you to complete your task, then I’m sorry, but I’m not going back.”

Quiet as she can, Alisbeth peels off her armor and lays it out on the ground as though she were in it one moment, then melted out of it the next. She observes her handiwork, then slips silently out the back of the tent and into the dark woods beyond.

Anarchaia hesitates. “But…the Valarjar—”

“Oh come off it, Ana,” Grimory barks. “We’ll find another way. We’re not going back. And I’m sure as hell not letting _you_ go back, yeah?”

She sighs and pulls out her flask of water. “I suppose you’re right,” she says quietly before taking a drink. “Ugh, this is so unforeseen. I hate unforeseen.”

“It’s life.” Koltira blinks as a small drop of water smacks him in the forehead. “Here we go,” he mutters.

Both the mage and demon hunter duck into their tent as they’re struck by drops of water as well. “I know we’re sheltered, but you may want to take that armor off,” Anarchaia says to Koltira from inside her tent. “Just in case.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Koltira waves absently as he goes to join Alisbeth inside the tent. He stops and stares at her empty armor, then purses his lips. He opens his mouth to call to the other two, but sighs and takes a seat instead, fighting with the buckles of his armor to remove it.

The two sit in silence for a moment as the wind picks up speed. Finally, Grimory clears his throat. “I’m sorry for…for what I did. To you. I-I would never…” He glances over at her when he feels a gentle pat on his knee.

Anarchaia simply gives a knowing smile and shakes her head. “We’re moving on. No more talk of that place.”

Grimory sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. “This whole trip has kind of been a mess.”

“Work isn’t meant to be fun, Grim,” Anarchaia says, conjuring four mugs and filling them with streaming water. “Plus it’s only been the two of us for months, now. You just aren’t used to the company.” Leaves of chamomile and lavender petals flutter into each of the cups as they appear. Two of the mugs lift and exit the tent on their own, settling themselves at the entrance to the tent next door.

Grimory looks into the swirling tea in his mug as it’s handed to him. “No, I think it’s just the chaos. It gets exhausting.”

Koltira sneers at the mugs. “Got anything a little stiffer?”

A short bottle of liquor joins the two cups before Koltira.

“If he gets some, I want some too,” Grimory says jokingly and holds out a hand. He blinks as his palm is filled with a similar bottle, which he nearly drops. “Oh. Thanks.” The two jump at a clap of thunder in the distance.

“Hope you weren’t planning on sleeping,” Anarchaia says loudly so both men can hear.

Koltira chooses not to respond as he shoves the two sets of armor to the side, it clatters all the way as protest. He lies back and takes a drink from the bottle. “Thanks, Ana.”

“I could sleep through a hurricane,” Grimory says, opening his gift and taking a long drink. “This is nothing.”

“Trust me, I know.” Anarchaia conjures their sleeping furs and stirs as the use of mana makes her lightheaded. “All right. No more magic for now.”

“No one’s asking you to do all this,” Grimory laughs, shrugging one of the furs around himself. “Take a break for gods’ sakes.”

~ * ~

Alisbeth stares into the still water at the face she’s stuck with. She stops, her eyes flicking to the side. Her lips pull up into a sly smile. “I know you’re there.” She looks behind her into the trees. “It’s okay. Our little secret.” She presses her finger to her lips, then returns to staring into the liquid as her reflection becomes distorted by the ripples sent through the water by the falling rain. A figure, tall and dark, stands behind her and breathes out, ruffling her messy white hair with their frigid breath. She giggles and turns around. “I could go for a drink. Come on.”


	31. Chapter 31

Morning comes, and with it more rain, though the worst of the storm has passed. Koltira eyes the small area of the tent and sighs, deciding maybe he should search for Alisbeth after all. He grabs his sword and exits the tent, then stops to stare at the other death knight lying face down in the mud by the fire. The back of her shirt is torn and she’s covered in mud and foliage, as though having rolled around on the forest floor.

Book in hand, Anarchaia glances out of the tent. She sits forward, away from Grimory’s sleeping figure, furrowing her brow. “Ali? What happened?” she calls from the safety of her shelter.

Koltira shrugs at the mage, then kneels beside Alisbeth when she doesn’t respond. He slides one of her eyes open, confirming the frosty quality remains. She otherwise doesn’t move. He turns her over to clean the mud from her face and discovers scratches all down her front. Wedged behind her collar bone is a stick that's impaling her.

“Have any bandages?” He asks the mage.

Anarchaia nods and comes out of her tent to settle beside them. A roll of gauze appears and she hands it over. Concern on her face, she looks down over Alisbeth and pulls her hood up. “Is she…asleep? Unconscious?”

Koltira pulls the twig from her skin and binds the wound. “I…don’t know. She left last night. This is the first time I’ve seen her since.” He purses his lips, realizing how irresponsible he’d been.

“She’s never been like this before?” The mage uses her magic to gently lift Alisbeth from the mud and place her inside her respective tent. “That’s worrisome.”

Koltira gives Anarchaia an incredulous look. “Unfortunately I wouldn’t know. And I doubt anyone in Acherus would know, either.” He hands the gauze back to the mage. “Thanks.”

She sends the gauze away and fidgets, the rain dampening her mask. “If only I could go home. I’m sure we have a book about this somewhere.” She sighs. “Perhaps she just needs rest.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Though I’ve never known a death knight to just sleep like that.” He looks over at Anarchaia as if noticing for the first time that she was there. “You’re sick, what are you doing? Get back in your tent.”

“I’m getting better. I’ll be fine.” She ducks into their tent and kneels beside Alisbeth, making short work of fixing the tears in her shirt. “Perhaps it’s an enchantment. Or maybe she ate something.” She taps her chin thoughtfully as she studies the girl’s sleeping body. “Or maybe a curse?”

Koltira leans in, trying not to overcrowd the area. “Any way you can figure out what? A spell or…something?”

Anarchaia frowns and sits back on her heels. “Not with a subject who shows no signs of life other than a heartbeat and breathing.” She unbuttons her glove and slides it off, placing her palm on Alisbeth’s forehead in hopes it may give some clues, but grunts in slight irritation when it’s cold. “Only a book about death knights would help me.”

Koltira’s brow lowers in aggravation. “You’re going to make me go to Acherus, aren’t you?”

Anarchaia’s eyes light up and she looks up at him while buttoning her glove again. “That’s a great idea! Oh! If you guys have any books there could you bring them back?”

He sneers at the idea. “We have loads of books, but I’m not sure how they’d feel about me bringing all of them.”

Anarchaia pouts and thinks for a long moment before again bouncing excitedly. “Oh! Oh! Are other people unable to go through your death gates or are they just not permitted to?”

“I don’t think anyone has ever tried, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be allowed in Acherus, whether you could get through my gate or not.” He sits back and rubs at his face. “I’ll go. Just tell me what to look for.”

The mage places both hands on Alisbeth’s stomach. They are engulfed in purple light and, in a flash of sparkles, Anarchaia takes on Alisbeth’s visage, blue eyes sparkling as she smiles up at Koltira. “How ‘bout now?” she sings in Alisbeth’s voice. “Please?”

Koltira narrows his eyes and leans back. “I’m having very confusing emotions right now.” He shakes his head to clear the thoughts away. “I’m not sure you can trick the gate, but…” He backs out of the tent and sets his palm to the ground, then rises; a black gateway rises from the ground at his hand. “Oh, um, small hitch… You might get thrown in her room if you’re caught without me there. It might be best if I go, too. Just try to be quick before someone asks me to do something.”

Anarchaia claps her hands excitedly and bounds over to him, nearly stumbling over herself. “Oh my gods this is too exciting. Everyone at the hall would be so jealous! Don’t worry, I won’t leave your side!” Without waiting for his reply, she leaps into the portal and disappears.

Koltira rolls his eyes to the sky and follows, stumbling to stop himself from colliding into Anarchaia’s back. “Try not to look like you’ve never seen the place,” he hisses, then nudges her to walk.

He leads her down the steps and to the right to a small alcove scattered with bones. Three tubes of green liquid stand at the back, staining the area with the sickly color—one contains a skeleton, one a ghoul, and one is empty. Tables and shelves are lined with books, vials, and other ghastly experiments.

The mage looks around with wide eyes, then snaps to attention as she’s commanded to. She sticks close to Koltira’s side, doing her best to look inconspicuous.

“Marogh,” Koltira addresses the man working to attach ghoul limbs to a torso.

The ghoul snaps its head to look at Anarchaia. “Err!”

Koltira angles to stand between the ghoul and the mage as the balding human looks up from his work.

He gives an exasperated sigh. “Yes? Speak your peace.”

She smiles and gives an excited wave to Marogh, trying to act as Alisbeth would.

“I need to look through your collection of texts,” Koltira says.

Marogh waves and impatient hand as he sneers and turns back to the ghoul.

Koltira shoves Anarchaia to a book shelf. “Work quickly. If you don’t find anything here we’ll ask Bane and Fester upstairs.”

She grunts as she’s pushed. “You don’t need to be so pushy,” she whines. Anarchaia quickly scans over the books with a finger and taps her foot anxiously. “There’s…nothing here on medicine. Just ghoul anatomy and the _Art of Creation_.” She crinkles her nose. “Seems redundant.”

Marogh scoffs over his shoulder. “What’s our resident loon need with a medical tome?”

Koltira glares at the death knight. “Don’t start anything. And it’s none of your business.”

Anarchaia stiffens and whirls around, plastering a wide grin on her face. “Our bestest friend is sick. We’re gonna make her better!” she calls over Koltira’s shoulder; yelling, though the three are not far from one another. She frowns suddenly and sticks her lower lip out. “She fell asleep and won’t wake up. We need a book about that.”

Koltira makes a face. “Don’t do that,” he hisses.

Marogh stares at her, a bored expression on his face. “Why would we have any of those here?” He turns back to his work, then comments absently, “Mograine is looking for you, Deathweaver.”

“What should I do?” she whispers as she turns. “Say nothing?”

Koltira takes her by the arm and shoves her back toward the entrance. “Don’t tell anyone what you’re actually doing. She doesn’t like anyone here because they call her crazy.” He shoves her into the magenta light of the displacement pad.

“Deathweaver, just the man I’m looking for.”

Koltira flinches and turns around. “Mograine. How fairs…things?”

Anarchaia stumbles from the platform and gives a glance around. She swallows as panic sets in when Koltira does not immediately follow. Biting her lip and tapping her fingers together nervously, she looks around for someone to ask about the two people Koltira had mentioned earlier. _Oh, gods. This isn’t good._ “Y-You, there!” she hisses at a passing death knight, doing her best to sound malicious, then cringes. _Definitely not good._

“What’s this I hear about you and Redblade off with the Archmage’s apprentice?” Mograine demands.

Koltira’s gaze flicks back to the platform. “You heard about that, huh? I just…thought Ali could use the time away from Acherus.”

The death knight stops to stare at Anarchaia, then lifts his helmet to reveal he is Forsaken, and spits on her. “Come at me, psycho. I’ll see Mograine takes your head. Make the world a better place.”

Anarchaia grits her teeth and clenches her fists at her sides. She stomps up to the man and gets in his face. “Listen here, _friend_ ,” she hisses through her teeth, panic overriding her act. “I’m in no mood for games, so how about you point me in the direction of Bane and/or Fester and this altercation doesn’t happen? Or perhaps I, myself, can tell Mograine how you antagonized me?”

The death knight steps backward. “They’re over there, where they always are!” He jerks a thumb to the left, past a towering abomination and into a corner with a tent beside a table and shelves of books behind a ghoul and a Forsaken. “Psycho,” he mumbles and stomps away from her.

Mograine eyes Koltira. “What’s got you so nervous?”

He lets out a breath. “Alisbeth is alone upstairs,” Koltira blurts, then rushes for the platform.

Anarchaia gives the man a rude gesture as he walks away, then turns around and sighs, a hand on her pounding heart. “I suppose I could have just looked around,” she says to herself before making her way for the table. _Another Forsaken, though. Ugh._

“And you are?” The Forsaken shouts.

At the same time, the ghoul grabs her arm with his blood-soaked hands, soiled bandages dangling from the flesh of his forearms, and hisses in a rough and unsure voice, “Me like…shiiiiiny.”

Anarchaia wrenches her arm away and steels herself for several moments. She narrows her eyes and conjures a gold piece behind her back, then holds it in front of the ghoul’s face. “This shiny? You want?”

The ghoul grunts enthusiastically at her.

Using a thumb, she flicks the coin into his face. _I’m so sorry!_ The mage turns on the Forsaken man and thinks for a moment, before just passing him without a word to glance through his bookshelves as though nothing can stop her. _This being mean thing is so hard…_

The ghoul creeps up behind her. “Yooou liiike?” He holds out a handful of bright baubles.

Koltira sprints over to Anarchaia. “Oh, good, you found them.”

“Deathweaver!” Mograine stomps their way from the portal. “I’m not finished with you!”

Anarchaia gives the baubles a sideways glance but otherwise does not look up from her searching. Her heart aches as she does her best not to take the shiny objects and faun over them with the monster. She pulls out a text titled _What Ails You: Death Knights_ and tucks it under her arm before standing upright and whirling around in time to see Mograine thundering toward them.

“Not now, Fester,” Koltira says.

The ghoul holds the baubles higher. “Me buy and…trade.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “Did you give him gold?”

Mograine lowers unamused eyebrows at Anarchaia. “Not the usual company you keep, Redblade.” He eyes Fester and Bane.

“Maybe,” she mumbles through the side of her mouth. Her jaw clenches as she’s addressed by the intimidating man but she says nothing, holding the book close and pushing herself further behind Koltira’s shoulder. _Oh gods, please stop talking to me. Please._

“You have to buy something from him,” Koltira hisses, motioning at Fester.

The ghoul sets the baubles aside and picks a stack of parchment from the table. “Yeeesss?”

Mograine remains silent as Fester tries to make his sale.

Anarchaia looks at the parchment and resists a smile. _I could actually use that,_ she thinks before swiping the parchment and bundling it with her book. She turns back to Mograine and gives an innocent yet nervous smile.

Fester shuffles back to his table to rearrange his goods.

Mograine stares her down. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Nothing,” Koltira interjects. “Just some light reading. Lots of walking. Anyway, we’re off. Just going to stop by and give Bloodmist a few rotten apples before we get back to the others.”

Mograine cocks an eyebrow. “Bloodmist? She’s not with you?”

“Arsenic doesn’t like her,” Anarchaia mumbles, her grin unwavering.

“Anarchaia,” Koltira corrects. _At least she’s got that part down._

Mograine purses his lips. “Well she hasn’t come back here. Would you like me to send some men out to find her?”

Koltira’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, no, I’m sure she’s fine. Come on Alisbeth, time to go.”

“Thassarian is looking for you.”

Koltira rolls his eyes to the ceiling and begs for patience. “He can keep looking or come find me. I have to go.” With that he kneels and summons a new death gate.

“Suffer well,” Mograine says.

Anarchaia throws herself into the portal before anyone else can speak or sell something to her. She stumbles back into the clearing and exhales loudly, her visage shattering into sparkles.

Grimory looks on incredulously from the shadows of Alisbeth’s tent. “Uh…have a nice trip?”

Anarchaia jumps and turns to him. “Oh! Good morning, Grim. Heh. Went to get a book.”

Koltira appears behind the mage and bumps into her this time. “You have to _move_ after you go through that.” He jerks his chin in greeting of the demon hunter. “Hey Grim.”

Anarchaia gives an embarrassed chuckle and takes a large step away. “Sorry.”

Grimory chews on the inside of his cheek and returns the nod, still processing. “So…Ali’s sick?”

The mage sets herself down inside the same tent and cracks open the book she’d swiped. “Perhaps. We’re not sure.”

Koltira ticks the list off on his fingers. “Not breathing, not moving, not responding, _asleep_ … Yeah, might be sick. Though I’ve never seen a death knight get sick.” He scrutinizes the ground near where he found Alisbeth that morning. The rain had all but washed away the evidence of her having been dragged into the clearing. “Ah-ha!”

Anarchaia looks up and follows Koltira’s gaze. “Oh, lookit that. Perhaps you’ll find our answer at the end of that.” She furrows her brow. “Though that would make our trip kinda pointless.” Her eyes scan back over the book; her parchment and quill appear. “Or perhaps not.”

“I’ll see how far it goes, but the rain washed most of it away. But you’ll never guess what else I found.” He stoops to examine a spot just inside the clearing.

Grim gets up and comes to investigate what Koltira’s discovered. “Something important?”

“A hoof print,” he says, loud enough for Anarchaia to hear.

The mage doesn’t look up from her text. The quill at her side scribbles furiously as she reads. “How large?”

Koltira shoots Grimory an incredulous stare as the mage doesn’t immediately catch on. “Large,” he says dramatically. “This thing was massive. I can sit inside the print. It’s a wonder the giant didn’t disturb us.” He rolls his eyes and heads into the forest.

Anarchaia looks up from her book and tilts her head. “Oh, pardon me for remembering that we live in a world with many hooved animals and people,” she calls after him as he walks away.

Grimory laughs and looks back into the tent. “Horse.”

Anarchaia scowls. “Was that so hard?”

Koltira searches for a few minutes, then returns with a scowl. “Trail got washed away.” He drops down by the fire pit and stares in at the mage.

“If it was so giant you should still be able to see it over the tree line,” Anarchaia sneers at him jokingly. She stops at a chapter and blinks down at the words. She reads for a moment and straightens. “I think she’s taken some sort of potion. She’s not showing signs of being cursed or enchanted. Did you find any empty vials?”

Koltira furrows his grow. “No. What kind of potion?”

She looks up at him and waits for a long beat. “The liquid kind.”

Grimory snorts and sits himself back inside the tent to avoid the residual rain droplets.

Koltira smacks his lips at the mage and blinks lazily. “Clever.”

“A sleeping potion,” Anarchaia continues. “So she should be awake in around eight hours as that’s how long they usually last.” She sets the book aside and sighs, placing a hand on her forehead. “She’ll be fine.”

“I don’t even know how long she’s been out.” Koltira scans the trees, looking among them while also deciding if he should go back to search for any vials, just to be sure. “Hey Ana, remember what Mograine said about Bloodmist? I think I know where she is.”

“You think she brought Alisbeth back?”

“It would appear to be the case.”

Grimory takes the tome in his own hands and flips through it. “You need to stop using magic. Put your stuff away for once in your life.”

Anarchaia holds out her palm and it fills with a large slice of sweetbread. She pulls her mask up and nibbles on it cautiously. “I’m fine, dad. Thank you.”

Grimory holds the book sideways to examine some detailed illustrations of herbs. “We could just carry her. We carried you.” He pokes Anarchaia in the ribs.

The mage inhales sharply at the jab and, coughing violently, chokes on her bread. “If you’re both that eager to get a move on,” she wheezes.

“Sitting around doing nothing was never my forte,” Koltira says. “It’d be nice to know where we’re going next—if anywhere.”

Anarchaia’s face softens. “I suppose Valdisdall for now. We can make our way back to the Halls of Valor after Alisbeth recovers.”

Koltira nods. “Fair enough. With any luck she’ll be awake in a few hours and we can skip Valdisdall altogether.” He pushes into the tent and retrieves his armor to dress. He looks at Alisbeth’s. “I don’t want to ask you to use magic, but dressing an unconscious person in plate is…never a fun endeavor.”

Anarchaia shoves the sweetbread in her mouth. “Can’t she dress when she wakes?” she says with a full mouth. “I’ll send her armor to my bedroom for the time being, if that’s okay.” She dusts her hands off on one another. “I’m sure she’s easier to carry without the armor.”

He purses his lips. “Just remember that you volunteered. I was trying not to ask.”

Anarchaia tilts her head and sends the armor away in a flash. “You should know me by now.” She sends the book away, as well as the parchment and quill, and steps outside.

“It’s weird seeing you eat,” Grimory grunts as he hands her the sleeping furs and dismantled tent to deconjure.

The mage furrows her brow. “Thank you?”

Koltira finishes dressing and stands. He shoulders his and Alisbeth’s packs, then lifts her into his arms and waits for the others. Anarchaia struggles with the bigger tent before sending that away as well. She gives a huff and trots off in the direction of Valdisdall.

Grimory follows after snuffing the fire out with a boot. “How close are we, Ana?”

“Not far.” She points up at the plateau ahead in the distance. “Couple hours even. Easier when it’s not so dark out, eh?”

Koltira strides to walk beside Anarchaia. “Just out of curiosity, _was_ there anything about a faster solution in the book?”

“Nope!” she responds with a smile. Her hands then fill with flames. “I could light her on fire if you’d like. That may do the trick.”

Koltira gives Anarchaia a look that is both shock and disgust. “Why in the hell would I want you to do that?”

The mage chuckles and pats him on the shoulder with an extinguished hand. “Oh, honestly Koltira,” she laughs and trots farther ahead.

Grimory stares on after her, unenthused. “She seems to be doing better.”

Koltira purses his lips at the demon hunter. “If she takes on Alisbeth’s image again, make her stop. I think trying to act like Ali loosened a few screws.”

Grimory blinks. “Oh, that’s right. How did that go? Didn’t think anyone but death knights were allowed in those gates.” He chuckles at the thought of Anarchaia pretending to be Alisbeth. “Was it a disaster?”

“I guess her illusion is _that_ good. She slipped right in.” He thinks back on the events. “She’s not very good at being Alisbeth, thankfully. She tried, but she’s too nice. She _gave_ Fester a gold coin. Poor thing had no idea what to do and just kept handing her items to buy.”

Grimory snorts out another laugh. “What a nerd. She’s too awkward to mimic anyone properly. She tried to be me once, did I tell you?” He folds his arms and scowls. “My commander is now under the impression that I have secret feelings for him.” His tongue pokes out from between his teeth as he scoffs in disgust.

“You…didn’t tell me. No. We were too busy trying to kill each other.” He purses his lips. “I am so sorry if he actually feels that way about you. Trust me, I know what that’s like. Sort of.”

Grimory chuckles again at the mention of them fighting one another. “Yeah.” He then cocks his head at the death knight, eyes bright with interest. “Oh? You have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He kicks out at the demon hunter’s leg. “No! Everyone just _thinks_ we are and I can’t even begin to understand _why_.”

Grimory nearly trips but regains his footing, laughing the whole time. “This is why men can’t have best friends. We’re either trying to fuck the woman or are perceived as gay. It’s a double standard.”

“Thank you!” Koltira shouts, over-enthused. “Call someone your brother, who isn’t actually your brother, and suddenly you’re lovers. You know, these two were holding hands that first day. Bet no one thought they were lovers,” he grumbles, motioning between the two women.

“All women are homosexual,” Grimory responds casually, bringing his hands up and behind his head. “I’ve yet to meet one that wouldn’t kiss another with a little persuasion. Again, double standards.” He laughs. “Are you jealous that _we_ can’t hold hands?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you are. I can practically feel it from here. I’m flattered, really, but my hands are quite full.” He adjust Alisbeth’s completely limp body, trying to keep her head from lolling back too far. Her arm falls from her lap and dangles in the air. He sighs in exasperation.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Grimory says with a grin. He watches, amused, as the other tries desperately to hold his wife. “Need some help, there? Perhaps…bigger arms?”

Koltira shoots him an unamused stare. “Our arms are the same size. What I need is for her to not be a corpse. At least sleeping people have some sort of rigidity to them.” Koltira kneels as she slips from his arms. “It’s like trying to hold cooked spaghetti.” He lays her out, re-crossing her arms and resisting the temptation to just fling her over his shoulder.

The Illidari gives a shrug. “If you say so.” He stops and turns, resting on a hip and folding his arms while he watches. His eyebrows lift in amusement. “I can get Ana to help if you’d like someone stronger…”

Kotira stops and finds a nearby stone to throw at Grimory. With a little trouble he gets Alisbeth into his arms again. “It’s good that you admit to your weakness,” Koltira shoots as he passes.

Grimory allows the rock to bounce off his chest. “Someone’s got to,” he retorts, following again. “Ana, slow down. We have an unconscious comrade, remember?”

The mage stops and whirls around to wait. “And even so, she’d still be faster than you two.”

The demon hunter rolls his eyes. “We _could_ just fly, ride, or teleport, but _someone_ has to be difficult.”

“I really don’t mind,” the death knight says. “I just,” he purses his lips not wanting to admit that he can barely keep her from slipping from his arms. As he thinks it, she slips down and he has to catch her. He sighs in defeat. “My armor is too smooth. She’s just going to keep falling.” He lifts her by the waist and lets her flop over his shoulder. “This should work.”

Grimory shakes his head. “My offer will be here when your pride isn’t.” He turns to Anarchaia as she falls in step with them. “Feeling better?”

Koltira pinches his face in annoyance. _It’s not pride,_ he thinks, but remains silent.

The mage nods and smiles. “Still a sniffle, but no more coughing.”

He returns the smile and sets a palm on her head. “Nothing a long nap couldn’t fix?”

Anarchaia swats his hand away. “Don’t treat me like a child,” she huffs.

“Compared to me—to _us_ —you are a child,” he chuckles.


	32. Chapter 32

The three step back into the bustling platform of Valdisdall. After a moment of weaving through the crowd, Anarchaia ushers the men into the inn. She pays for one room and hands the key to Koltira.

“Go set her down,” she calls over the noise of the tavern. “I’m sure a bed will do her good.”

Grimory is already hailing a barmaid for a drink and food before settling himself in the same spot he’d occupied their first visit there.

Koltira takes Alisbeth to the room and strips her before laying her on the bed. He pours water from a pitcher into a basin and uses a cloth to clean all the mud away. Once finished, he pulls the blanket over her naked body and sighs as he removes his plate gear.

“Would you just wake up already?” He lowers himself to the floor to lean against the bedside and stare at the door in silence.

Anarchaia takes up a seat across from Grimory and requests a cup of wine. “Ugh, Master was so disappointed,” she groans, placing her head in her hands. “He didn’t say it outright but I could tell.”

“He’s a reasonable guy,” Grimory responds with a shrug. “I’m sure he’s more happy that you’re okay than disappointed that we failed.” He bounces a knee under the table. “You think Ali will be all right?”

Anarchaia thanks the maid and takes up her wine, drinking deeply. “I’m confident she’s fine. If I weren’t I’d definitely say as such.” She glances at the staircase. “He seems to be rather worried, still.”

The demon hunter gives another shrug and takes a large mouthful of glazed poultry. “It’s his wife. He’ll get over it once he sees you’re right.”

Anarchaia hesitates. “But what if I’m not?”

“You haven’t been wrong yet.”

She pauses as of to tell him he’s wrong, then sighs instead. “I guess.”

Koltira drops down at the table with the other two and leans on his elbows. “I hate waiting.”

“Hm, that must be a male thing,” Anarchaia says. “I’ve yet to meet a man who wasn’t impatient.” She sips her wine casually.

Grimory stops mid-bite through bone. “Well I’ve never met a woman who wasn’t a liar.”

Koltira blinks at the two. “Oh, we’re doing this again.” He orders a tall scotch from the barmaid.

“I have never lied about anything!” Anarchaia barks, then pauses before taking another sip. “To you.”

“Right,” Grimory responds, crunching on pheasant bone. He turns to Koltira. “And you’re just gonna let her say that shit?” He washes it down with mead. “Come on, man, back me up. She’s outnumbered.”

The death knight cocks an eyebrow at the other man. “Has she lied?” He takes his drink graciously and starts in on it.

Grimory turns to Anarchaia and tilts his head expectantly.

“N-No…” Anarchaia chirps, downing a larger drink than usual.

Grimory looks back at Koltira with raised eyebrows. “I think that’s a good answer.”

“I don’t have to tell you everything you demand to know, you know,” Anarchaia responds sharply. “And I’d rather be a liar than something that does its best to fuck everything.”

“Yep. We’re doing this.” Koltira stares ahead and downs his drink as fast as he can, then signals for another, his goal to get drunk enough that the fight doesn’t bother him.

“You know what? Koltira’s right. I’m not involving myself in such mundane conversations.” The mage finishes her wine and sets the empty cup aside. “I honestly just want to drink and forget everything that’s happened in the last couple days.”

“Oh good,” Grimory says with a grin. “That means I win by default.”

Koltira grits his teeth. “Okay, you know what, Grim? I don’t think Ana has lied to you, and if she has, I can’t begin to imagine what about. The only lying she’s done recently was pretending to be Ali.” He turns his sights on the mage. “I don’t recommend doing it again, either, because you’re bad at it.” He turns forward to glare ahead. A dwarf makes the assumption he’s glaring at him and makes a rude gesture. Koltira makes a rude gesture back.

“She knows what she’s lying about,” Grimory grunts and picks shards of bone from his teeth.

“Something that’s none of your business to begin with.” Anarchaia glances at Koltira and frowns. “I was that bad? It must have been hard for me to concentrate with all the manhandling.” She sticks out her pale tongue in jest.

“I told you we had to hurry.” He swirls the scotch in his glass. “You weren’t hurrying fast enough.”

“You that violent with everyone who isn’t fast enough for you?” she whines, pouting like a spoiled child. “Perhaps I should let Master know how you’ve bruised my arm.”

Koltira shrugs. “It gets results. And I highly doubt your arm is bruised.”

“I’ll just tell Ali, then,” she huffs, folding her arms.

Koltira raises his eyebrows at her, but says nothing as he stares.

Anarchaia cocks her head. “Oh, that scares you? Good to know.” She grins and orders another glass of wine.

“Leave the poor guy alone, Ana.” Grimory stretches.

The mage pats Koltira on the back and chuckles. “He knows I’m just messing with him.”

“That really doesn’t scare me in the least, actually. You could tell Alisbeth I killed your puppy and she’d laugh. You could tell her I cut off your hand and she’d yell at me for not letting her join. You could tell her that I took the last candy cane and she’d hunt me down and beat me until I couldn’t move.” He finishes his drink and signals for another. “Your ‘bruises’ are less important than candy, Ana.”

The smile on Anarchaia’s face fades and she purses her teal lips. “You sure know how to kill a mood, Deathweaver.”

Grimory laughs. “Just desserts, Ana.”

She points a finger at Grimory. “Don’t you start, demon boy. You’re just as bad at taking jokes.”

Koltira gives the mage another dead-pan stare. “Those were jokes?”

Anarchaia ignores Grimory’s second round of laughter and glares up at the death knight. She purses her lips again and scoops up her wine as it’s set before her. “Don’t expect any favors in the future,” she mutters and takes a swig.

Koltira asks the barmaid to get him a whole bottle. When she returns with it, he takes the bottle and throws a handful of gold on the table as he stands. He lifts the drink as a salute to the other two. “To another night of waiting around and getting drunk.” He exits the tavern and heads around the back of the building to stare out at the mist and the ocean.

Grimory lifts his drink and agrees heartily, then lowers it and furrows his brow when Koltira leaves. “What’s crawled up his ass?”

Anarchaia gives a shrug and drinks more of her wine. “Go have a guy talk with him or something.”

The demon hunter narrows his eyes and parts his lips to answer. Instead, he returns the shrug and takes his mead and stands to follow Koltira. “Hey,” he greets casually as he finds the man out back on the ledge overlooking the ocean.

“Hey,” Koltira replies, adjusting to allow room in the dirt against the wall, away from the thorns in the grass.

The Illidari takes up the spot cleared for him. He takes a long pull of his mead and looks out over the sea. “Everything all right?”

Koltira gives him an incredulous look. “Peachy.”

Grimory furrows his brow at the man. “You’re kinda shitty at lying.”

“It wasn’t a lie, it was sarcasm.” He sighs and leans his head back so fast it thumps against the building. “I begged Alisbeth to stay in Helheim. I wanted to stay.” He takes a drink and purses his lips against his own words.

Grimory raises his eyebrows and blinks a few times. “I… Oh. Why? You don’t still feel that way, do you?”

The death knight swirls the liquor across his tongue as he hesitates. “And what if I do? The woman you saw in there is the woman I fell in love with. I love her still, but how can I not miss _that_.” He growls. “She ran away last night. I knew she was gone, but I didn’t go after her.”

Grimory scowls and recoils. “Are you serious?” He scoffs in disbelief. “I get that you miss normal Ali, but wanting to spend the rest of eternity in some…mad illusion? And for what? _Nostalgia?_ ” He sneers. “You need to get a grip.”

Koltira scowls over the cliff and nurses his scotch for a long time. “I just wanted to come home to my wife and child and be left alone. And I didn’t get that. And I can’t talk to _her_ because she goes ballistic at the subject.” He rubs his face in frustration. “You’re right, though. I need to get over it. Leave the past where it is.”

Grimory’s eyes widen slightly at the word _child_ but he doesn’t turn or pursue the subject. “Killing yourself inside and out would never give you what you desire. It’s best you just…appreciate what you have now.” Grimory lifts his mead to inspect it through the dark glass, the setting sun filtering through the side. “Before something worse happens.”

“Like what? A demon hunter with the same set of morals as her captures her heart and steals her from me?” Koltira’s expression remains passive for a moment before he gives in to laughter. “You wouldn’t last a day.”

Grimory grits his teeth and forces a smile. “That…isn’t what I meant. But if we’re going into that territory, I’d say I’d have no problem. Chaos is pretty familiar with me.”

“Joining your chaos with her chaos is _not_ a good thing, if aimed in the wrong direction.” The warmth of the scotch creeps into him and he stares at the bottle, realizing it’s got a much stronger alcohol content than most. “You know what?” He pokes the demon hunter in the pectoral. “Have at it. You’re in charge of her chaos for one day. An _entire_ day. No sleeping on the job. She doesn’t sleep, so when you do— _fft!_ ” He makes a flying motion with his hand. “No one was watching her last night, and now look. She’s sleeping for gods know how long.”

“You want me to babysit?” He asks warily, rubbing at the spot he’d been poked. A fangy smirk crawls across his face. “All right, fine. And what do I get when I prove you wrong?” His eyes flicker with amusement as he finishes his mead.

Koltira narrows his eyes. “What do you want?” he asks slowly.

Grimory thinks for a long moment, then returns the poke to the chest. “You buy my drinks from here on out. Until the end of all this bullshit.” He narrows his own eyes. “And don’t hurt Ana ever again.”

Koltira scoffs. “I didn’t hurt her! She’s just whining because she wanted to spend more time with the books…or Fester. I think she liked him. But I did _not_ bruise her.”

The corner of Grimory’s lip tightens and he turns back to the ocean. He hurls his empty bottle off the cliff. “I know what I said.”

Koltira chuckles. “Is this going to be like last time where you talk a big talk but in the end you still hit like a bitch?” He takes a swig of scotch and laughs again.

Grimory shoots him a look. “Do I need to keep reminding you who was on the ground last? I don’t think I do.”

He calms his laughing to a few small chuckles. “ _Fine._ What do I get when you fail?”

“ _What do you want?_ ” he mocks playfully.

The death knight thinks on it as he finishes his scotch. “ _You_ have to buy all _my_ drinks. And…” He taps the bottom of the bottle against the dirt. “You know what? Same thing. You can’t hurt either of the women.”

Grimory lets out a bark of a laugh, then furrows his brow and scowls. “You know what? Now that you’ve said that, I’m going to go beat the shit out of both of them. Right now.” His facade cracks and he laughs again. “With-… Within an inch of their lives! Oh gods, man.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “I would never hurt a woman.” A short beat passes. “Unless she asked me to, of course.”

“There’s more than one way to hurt someone.” Koltira tosses his bottle over the side of the cliff.

Grimory scoffs. “What, their _feelings_? Ana and Ali aren’t typical blubbering females, you know,” he says. The image of Alisbeth’s crying face in the forest returns to him and he shrugs it off. “Regardless, I wouldn’t do that, either.” _At least I try not to._

Koltira blinks in disbelief. “Unintentional counts. But whatever, if you think you won’t _ever_ hurt them, unintentional or not, then I can think of something else. I dare say, you’d make a good foot stool.” He smiles devilishly.

The demon hunter narrows his eyes. “No, I think I can handle it.” He stands and brushes himself off. “I could use another mead. You gonna stay out here and be angry at the ocean some more?”

He shrugs. “Maybe a little longer. I mean, how dare it? How _dare_ that ocean?”

Grimory gives another laugh and turns back the way he’d come. “Well, let us know when you two’ve reconciled.”


	33. Chapter 33

A loud chorus of cheers from within the inn makes Grimory pause before opening the door. He furrows his brow to see a group of vrykul men and women gathered around a dart board in the back.

Anarchaia, sitting on the shoulder of one of the gigantic men, hastily downs a horn of liquor and, already swaying from intoxication, tosses a dart at the bullseye. It hits—seemingly unaided—near the center. Another round of cheering erupts. The mage holds out her hand with a haughty grin and is handed multiple gold pieces from the patrons.

“Easy— _hic!_ —peasy.”

The demon hunter makes his way to her. “Ana, what are you doing?”

“Darts,” she says pointedly. “And winning.” A hand from the crowd hands her another horn of liquor. “And g-…-etting free drinks.”

Koltira resists the urge to see what all the shouting within the tavern is about, but soon gives in. He makes his way to the other two, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“We were out there for ten minutes,” Grimory calls up at her. “How did all this happen in ten minutes?”

The mage shrugs and hurls another dart after her opponent—a surly looking Orc with a beard—knocks her previous dart off the board. “Koltira! Finally ready to have fun?” she slurs.

The crowd around her roars with laughter when her dart lodges itself in the man standing near the target. He looks down at his chest and laughs as well.

“Whoops.”

The lower lid of Koltira’s right eye raises as he looks at her. “Is this…usual?” He asks Grimory in a hushed tone.

“She’s had a lot,” Grimory responds. “Usually she’s challenging me to games. I wouldn’t do it. She cheats.” As soon as the word leaves his mouth, a dart collides with his ear. He growls and rips it out as the crowd roars with laughter.

“I so do not,” the mage corrects, scowling down at him. “You’re just— _hic!_ —shitty at games.”

The demon hunter hurls the dart back at her and it sails past her head and into the wall behind her. “I’ve won plenty.”

Koltira acquires a new drink and a set of darts and smirks at the demon hunter. “Actually, this sounds like fun.” He lines up his shot and takes it. The dart sails through the air and into the bullseye. “Your move, _apprentice_.”

Anarchaia’s head jerks to gaze at Koltira with false sobriety. “Set me down, Olvar.”

The large, muscle-bound man bends slightly at the waist so she can jump down. She stumbles in her intoxication but recovers with little grace. She swipes a dart from the table beside her and tosses it. It lands near Koltira’s, but only barely missing the dividing line.

Grimory takes a seat behind them. He hails a maid for more mead and pinches his bleeding ear.

Koltira lines up his next shot, but as he throws it, Olvar kicks his shin and the dart sticks into an outer ring. The death knight spins to glare up at the man. “I will lay you out if you touch me again.” He shakes his head and turns back to Anarchaia. “Go ahead.”

The mage titters and turns to rest a hand on the vrykul’s forearm. “It’s okay,” she says gently as though some sort of royalty. “I need not your help, though the effort will not go unnoticed.”

Olvar gives a grunt and folds his huge arms over his chest. Anarchaia picks up another dart and aims; the piece lands firmly within the twenty-five point ring and she curtsies in the death knight’s direction. “The nice guy’s turn.”

Koltira smirks and raises his dart. He lines up his shot and turns his head to drink, tossing the dart without looking. It slides smoothly in beside Anarchaia’s. He gives her a cocky smile and gestures for her to take her turn.

The mage narrows her eyes and pulls off her robes, tossing them at Olvar who gladly throws them over his shoulder. She sways in place for a moment, recovering from the rush of having her head jostled by disrobing, and picks up another dart. She attempts to steady herself and makes her toss. The dart sticks itself between the other five within the bullseye. She smiles and takes a long drink of wine from a horn handed to her.

Koltira lines up his shot, his confidence still high despite her oddly good luck. _Good luck my ass. Quick fingers, more like it._ The barmaid taps his shoulder. “Oh, thank you.” He smiles as she hands him a new drink and takes away his dirty glass.

Anarchaia takes the opportunity throw her piece while Koltira is distracted. It lodges itself firmly in the triple-score section of the sixteen-point slice. She clears her throat into her hand. “Ssso sorry,” she slurs, “my hand slipped.”

He narrows his eyes at her. “And here I was defending you about lying. Look what we have here, Grim, a big cheater.” He pokes her in the sternum and takes his next shot. The dart finds the narrowest part of the twenty point slice.

The girl flinches and swats his hand away, covering her chest defensively with an arm. “Preparing to manhandle me again? Have you no mercy?” She straightens and takes up another dart. “And skipping turns isn’t cheating. We both have a finite amount of— _hic!_ —darts.” She lines up her move and pulls her hand back to throw.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows at Koltira and stretches, his boot pushing against Anarchaia’s, causing her to stumble. The dart sails past the board completely, landing in some poor Dwarf’s drink.

Anarchaia catches her footing and turns to glare at the demon hunter. “ _Grim!_ ”

The Illidari shrugs. “My bad.”

Laughing, Koltira takes his next shot. It embeds in the red of the bullseye. He turns to Anarchaia, the tips of his ears growing hot from drink. “This,” he pokes her chest again, “isn’t ‘manhandling’. Neither was it in Acherus. Do you _want_ me to show you what manhandling really is?”

Anarchaia turns away and pouts at the second poke, then lifts her eyebrows and chuckles. “Oh?” she laughs drunkenly. “Are you threatening me or seducing me?” A smirk graces her lips and she tosses her third-to-last dart. It lands firmly in the double-point ring of the twenty wedge and she pouts again. “Aw.”

The death knight’s eyebrows raise. “If you find that being manhandled is seductive, that’s your business.” He takes a gluttonous drink and readies his next dart. It plants itself into the sixteen point mark. “Still show you how it’s done, either way.”

Anarchaia gives an annoyed huff and picks up her next dart. “Unlikely.” She throws it and it hits his previous one dead on, knocking it off the board and onto the floor. She turns to him with a triumphant grin. “I’m sure being shown, eh boys?” The vrykul men around her give a hearty laugh and she drains another horn of its contents.

“I’m sure I’d be winning, too…” he tosses his dart into the green ring around the bullseye, “If _I_ was cheating with magic.” He swallows the last of his scotch and shoots her a look of daring.

The crowd around them goes silent. Grimory stifles a quiet laugh. Anarchaia pauses and scowls. Crossing the small distance between them, she glares up into his face. “So you think I’m _cheating_?” she hisses in a low voice, breath laden with alcohol.

Koltira leans down to her level, his nose an inch from hers. “I’m sorry, cheating is a harsh word. How about…swaying the game in your favor using invisible elements you’ve trained through the years.”

Anarchaia’s fists clench as she resists the urge to strike him. “I’ll be nice,” she slurs, leaning away. “I’ll do anything you ask to prove I’m not playing dirty. Say the w-…word and it’s done. Anything.” She folds her arms.

Koltira sets his palms to her cheeks and holds her face delicately in his hands. After a moment he walks around to stand behind her, his hands poised just behind her skull. “All right, throw your dart.”

Anarchaia flinches as her cheeks are touched. She narrows her eyes over her shoulder at him and lines up her shot, leaning on one foot. As the mage goes to make her shot, Koltira’s fingertips turn a dark blue as an icy torrent surrounds her head. If the mage was using any magic, it would have been interrupted and she’d be unable to use any more for a few seconds while her mind thaws.

Anarchaia focuses hard on the target ahead of her. Despite the cold that creeps through her skull, the dart drills through the air. After a moment it nestles securely into the triple-point section of the eighteen-point wedge. She places her hands on her hips and gives the man behind her a cocky grin. “Happy?”

Koltira shrugs. “Fine, then. So you’re not… This time.” He scoops up his newly replaced drink and raises it as cheers to her, then swerves away, unable to walk a straight line.

Anarchaia gives a chuckle and falls back into Grimory’s lap as she takes up someone else’s drink and downs it. “You have two left,” she giggles and watches on, winking coyly despite his not being able to see. “See? I’m not a cheater.”

Koltira throws both darts, one right after the other, not caring where they go. The first lands in the triple point zone of twenty point slice, the second wedges its way into the bullseye. “Done.”

A vrykul man takes it upon himself to tally up their points. After a moment he turns and lifts a hand in Anarchaia’s direction. “Ana!” he cries in his thick accent.

The crowd cheers and Olvar tears the small woman from Grimory’s lap, placing her on his shoulder again.

“Well played, _Farstrider_ ,” she says with a playful grin. “Perhaps you’d like a rematch?”

The demon hunter grits his teeth and shoots Koltira a sympathetic glance.

He rolls his eyes to the demon hunter and glances at Anarchaia before dropping to a bench. “I think I’ve had enough of your ‘fun’. Go ahead and stick holes in these men a few more times.”

Anarchaia frowns and motions to be set down again. She stumbles to stand before Koltira and bends down to look at him. “Sssorry,” she says with genuine sadness. “I don’t like seeing my…my friends unhappy.” A wide smile crosses her lips. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Koltira smiles mischievously and thinks up something he knows she can’t do. “Wake Alisbeth up.” He takes a drink, maintaining eye contact with the mage.

The undead girl furrows her brow. “I’m not an alchemist.” Her eyes light up beneath her mask. “Oh! I know what will cheer you up!” She pauses and places a hand on her chin, turning away and swaying drunkenly. “Though, maybe I shouldn’t…”

The crowd decides that Grimory is the next candidate in their darts tournament and pulls him to the board despite his protests. “W-Wait! I’m no good at darts!”

“I want my damn game!” the Orc from earlier barks, fists clenched.

Koltira narrows his eyes. “Shouldn’t what?”

The mage waves a hand in a futile effort to make him forget and sways again. “N-No. Pick something else.”

“Rain check.”

The men in the tavern shout as a dart flies.

Koltira flinches and stands. “Excuse me.”

Anarchaia blinks and takes a step back. “O-Oh. All right. Sorry again.” She smiles and rubs at the back of her neck. “Tell Ali I say _hi_ i-if she’s— _hic!_ —awake.” Another dart sails between the two and she backs up again to avoid it. “This isn’t even the direction of the board!” she growls at the group.

“You’re fine, Ana. It’s just getting a bit too loud in here.” He pats her head. “Still curious what you shouldn’t do.” He chuckles and waves as he heads for the exit, deciding on fresh air instead of sitting with Alisbeth again.

The mage hesitates for a moment. She glances back at the occupied demon hunter before deciding she could also go for some fresh air. She bounds off after Koltira faster than she should and trips over the corner of a bench, then bursts out the entrance, into the dirt. Scrambling back to her feet, she saunters after him again.

Koltira holds back his laughter. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see that.” Instead of heading for the cliffs around back, Koltira strolls to a small cluster of trees, keeping his balance through sheer luck.

Anarchaia manages to follow, brushing herself off. “Th-Thanks. Guess I owe you twice now. Heh.” She shakes her head, trying to sober herself up. Hiccupping into a palm, she skips ahead into the trees and leaps to grab onto a branch. “So you want your reward for losing?” she says with a giggle, kicking her dangling legs.

“Losers don’t get rewards,” he laughs. Koltira props himself comfortably against a tree trunk, his ears warm and his nose a darker blue.

“They do when they’re my friends.” She drops back to the dirt below, stumbling to her hands and knees with the elegance of a wounded zhevra. Instead of standing, she acts as though it was intended and crawls over to him. “And if I feel badly enough,” she says with a crooked grin. “So you want it or not?”

Koltira rolls his eyes skyward. “ _Fine_ ”

Anarchaia sits back on her heels pulls off her mask. She puts her hands over her face and, after a moment, she pushes her palms over her head. Her hair falls back long and black, and her face that of Alisbeth’s—skin flushed and a peachy pink. Her glowing green eyes smile giddily, already expecting a smile from the man. “Guess who.”

Koltira’s gaze snaps down. For a moment he forgets himself, kneeling down to run a hand over her features and tangle his fingers through her hair.

Anarchaia blinks, her smile fading somewhat as she receives a reaction she hadn’t anticipated. She bites her lower lip and glances away, wanting to stop him but at the same time not wanting to interrupt.

Mind muddled by drink, the death knight pulls the mage into his arms, not stopping to remind himself that it’s only an illusion. He kisses her, deep and passionate, then suddenly stops and pushes her back a little. “I’m so sorry…”

Now certain she’s made a mistake, the mage’s eyes widen. Anarchaia places her hand over her mouth when she’s pushed away, the entirety of her face filled with color. “N-No! That was completely my fault! I shouldn’t have… Y-You…” She puts her hands over her face again and turns away. “ _I’m_ so sorry! I just wanted you to be happy!”

His fingertips find her chin and turn her to look at him again, studying her face. “I am happy. I just… I’m sorry.” He resists holding her again, half knowing it’s an illusion and half not caring.

Anarchaia scans his face quickly. She swallows, his words from earlier now running through her mind. _…Not very good at_ being _her._ The alcohol invigorates her spirit of competition—among other things—and she clenches her jaw, bringing a hand up to his arm. “It’s all right,” she responds with a gentle smile. “Don’t be sorry.”

He returns to exploring the illusion with his fingertips, running them across her cheeks, her lips, through her hair. He opens his mouth several times to repeat that he’s sorry, but then closes it and says nothing. After a long time staring at her, the alcohol once again lets his mind believe he looks on the face of the living Alisbeth. He pulls her to him again to hold her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Anarchaia closes her eyes and her smile falters. _This poor man. Poor Ali._ She returns the embrace and brings a hand up to stroke the back of his head and down the length of his hair. _Ugh. This is bad. I shouldn’t be doing this._ She opens her drunken eyes to look up at the stars through the leaves above. _But it feels so nice to be hugged…even if I don’t deserve it._

The lingering embrace in his drunken state drives his mind to forget the illusion entirely. He takes her by the hips, bringing them forward to straddle his own. Koltira pulls her back into passionate kissing, his hands exploring the details of her face and the soft length of her hair.

Anarchaia’s thoughts race through her head in a jumbled mess. Hesitant hands run up his back and come to rest on his shoulder blades. She closes her eyes and reciprocates the kiss despite her mind’s constant shouts of protest. Her intoxication pushes her logic to the backburner and she finds herself pulling at the hem of his shirt, slow and cautious as not to snap him back to what is really going on and who she actually is.

His hands slowly trace down her arms, coming to rest on her hands and urging them to pull his shirt up. Getting the permission she was seeking, the mage pulls his shirt from his body, breaking the seal of their kiss in doing so. Her eyes immediately flick to the scar as she sets the article aside. Breathing quietly, she reaches a tentative hand out to touch it just as she’d done the first time she’d seen it, her eyes looking up into his face for a second permission.

Koltira stares into the green eyes and nods his approval. He doesn’t tear his eyes away from hers as he runs one palm from her knee and up her thigh, the other nestles into the crook of her waist to hold onto the top of her hip.

Anarchaia pops open the button of her glove and slides it off. Knowing she’ll still feel nothing with her fingers, she rests her palm over the scar and gazes at it in fascination, admiring the smooth tissue. In a moment of clarity she pulls her hand away and bites her lip. “I… Sh-…” A look of turmoil crosses her features before she gives a quiet growl of frustration and pulls him into another kiss, pushing her chest against his.

Koltira runs his hands down to pull her forward by her rear. He discovers his own arousal with a shock up his spin as she presses into it. He breathes a sigh against her lips, then pulls her to him again, kissing her deeper still as one hand traces to her front, then slips into the top of her trousers.

Anarchaia’s breath hitches in her throat and she pulls away. She looks into his. _This is your last chance, Ana. Stop this insanity._ She instead closes the space between their lips again before deftly untying the strings to her pants, her free hand digging into his shoulder. _Fuck it. I don’t care._


	34. Chapter 34

Koltira makes his way back to the inn, mind still clouded with alcohol, with Anarchaia beside him. He feels he should say something, so he opens his mouth, then changes his mind. He tries to put his hands in pockets, then realizes he has none. He folds his arms over his chest and clears his throat to speak, then loses what to say. Again, his hands search for pockets, but find none, as before. _Just fucking say something!_ He thinks, pursing his lips at himself. _But what do I say? ‘Thanks’? ‘I’m sorry’? ‘Let’s do this again sometime’?_ He decides the last is the worst of them and glances down at the mage, trying to read her past her damned mask. Scenes fresh in his mind play and heat crawls up his neck to warm his ears to the tips, so he looks away from her and refolds his arms.

Anarchaia walks silently beside the death knight, arms wrapped neatly under her breasts. Her fingers fidget at either side and she swallows, her intoxication still causing her to sway every few steps. _Oh gods, what have you done? You can never be friends now. Never! What is wrong with you? Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ She gives him a sideways glance as he clears his throat, then turns her covered face away in embarrassment. She digs her fingers into her sides and bites her lip. _Stupid._

Koltira opens the inn door and holds it. “After you,” he says so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

“Thanks,” the mage mumbles, rubbing her arm nervously.

“Where have you two been?” Grimory calls across the tavern.

“A walk. Heh.” Anarchaia slides into the spot across from him. “It’s nice out.”

Koltira sits at the far end of Grimory’s bench, keeping his eyes ahead of him on the wall. The barmaid sweeps by and sets another scotch in front of him, as though she had memorized his drink just in case.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “real nice out.” He takes a drink. Realizing the mage’s scent is still on his hand, he coughs in shock as more memories flood his mind, causing him to choke on his drink. Clearing his throat, he sets it down, and picks it up with the other hand.

Anarchaia stands abruptly at the sound of Koltira’s cough as though the noise had reminded her of something important. “I’m going to take a shower,” she blurts and rushes from the room and down the dark hallway.

Grimory narrows his eyes and watches her leave from behind his drink. He glances down the table at the other man and sets his cup down gingerly. “All right, what the hell is going on? What happened?”

Koltira can’t help the smirk that crawls to the corner of his lips as the awkwardness diminishes outside her presence. “Oh, that.” He clears his throat and does his best to fake a chuckle. “I challenged her to an archery match to make up for the darts fiasco. Loser had to put a toad down their shirt. She might be sore with me for a while.”

The muscles in Grimory’s jaw flex. He takes another drink and laughs as well. “She’s skin and bone. I’m surprised she can even _draw_ a bow. Hope you weren’t too hard on her.”

Koltira chokes on his drink again, then clears his throat. “Only as hard as she deserved.”

Grimory furrows his brow at the man’s reaction, his reply only furthering his suspicion. “Well whatever. She deserves to lose every once in a while.”

 _I’d like to think we were both winners,_ Koltira thinks, but doesn’t say. His secret excitement over their activities falls as his mind finds the next logical topic to distract the demon hunter. “Have you checked on Alisbeth at all?” _Oh, fuck. Ali, I’m so sorry._ He stares at the amber liquid in his glass.

“Yeah,” Grimory responds, stretching, “after being forced into three games of darts. She’s still asleep. I locked the door when I left.” He sighs and glances back down the hall, the pitter-patter of the showers being easily heard through the nearly empty tavern.

“Just the one shower?” Koltira asks, having never checked the first time they’d stopped there.

“There’s three,” the Illidari responds. Memories of their previous stay—his shower with Alisbeth—resurface and he smiles somewhat. “Quite roomy, though.”

Koltira narrows his eyes, but doesn’t feel after recent events he has any right flinging accusations. “Unless you dance in the shower, I don’t think much room is necessary. _I_ only need room for me.” He stands and finishes his drink, then heads for the showers, hoping the fact that he can’t walk a straight line doesn’t affect showering.

Grimory shrugs and finishes his ale. “Different strokes.” He looks over his shoulder as Koltira reaches the doorway. “ _Have fun._ ”

Koltira stops and turns, his face pinched in annoyance. “You locked the door. I need into the room.” He holds his hand out for the key. “Why would I have fun in the shower?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Grimory laughs, tossing him the key. “It was a joke. Don’t dwell on it too much.”

Koltira slaps his chest to catch the key as it hits him. “You’re a good man, Grimory. Off to take a _fun_ shower.” He spins and heads down the hall, then shouts “ _Fun!_ ”

Anarchaia steps out of the shower room just in time to catch Koltira. She flushes beneath her mask and quickly turns to hurry back into the tavern.

Koltira grabs his shower bag, then stands over Alisbeth. He reaches out to stoke her cheek, then stops. _You don’t deserve to touch her._ He backs out of the room and finds a free shower.

Once back with Grimory, Anarchaia looks around the table. “Have you seen my robes?”

“I put them in our room.” Grimory leans forward and folds his arms on the table. He smirks. “So. What did you two do on your walk?”

“We…” The mage hesitates. Recent memories cause her throat to tighten and she picks at her gloves, her cheeks flushing more. “We walked through the evergreens and talked about nothing in particular.”

“So why are you acting so strange?” Grimory lifts his eyebrows as he waits for a response.

Anarchaia looks up at him. “S-strange? I’m not acting strange. And it’s _strangely_ , not _strange_.” She swallows. “What have you been doing?”

The Illidari rolls his eyes when he’s corrected. “Losing at darts.”

Anarchaia forces a chuckle. “That must be why everyone’s left.”

“Everyone’s left because it’s nearly midnight and they enjoy sleeping.” Grimory looks into his empty mug.

“So why aren’t you doing the same?”

Grimory shrugs. “Was about to, but realized I only got one room. Don’t want to crawl into bed with Ali. Our friend might not appreciate it.”

“No. He wouldn’t.” Anarchaia sighs and wedges her hands between her thighs. “I hope she wakes up soon. We need to get going.”

Grimory shrugs again. “We’re in no rush. Calm down. You’re always so high strung.”

Anarchaia sighs again and shifts uncomfortably when the area between her legs aches and throbs. “I guess you’re right.”

Koltira returns to the tavern, his wet hair draped over one shoulder, and drops down into his previous seat. He slides the key across the table back to the demon hunter. “Thank you.” He rubs his face, the cold shower having sobered him some. “Why is it so quiet in here? Where did everyone go?”

“Bed,” Grimory responds, pocketing the key in the pouch at his hip. “Weren’t impressed with my dart game, according to Ana.”

Anarchaia gives a crooked smile. “Maybe don’t be so bad.”

“I’m made for lifting heavy things and chasing down enemies. I’m not a precision person.” Grimory twirls the empty mug around his finger idly as he speaks. “Not all of us can be drunken masters.” He sticks out his tongue.

The death knight cocks an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you asleep, too?”

Grimory rolls his head and groans. “I only got one bedroom,” he says in a dramatically exhausted tone. “Ali has the bed.” The thought of sleeping makes him yawn. “Though I could take the floor, I guess.”

Koltira props his cheek on his fist, giving Grimory a look of annoyance. “First of all, the bed is big enough so you don’t have to go cuddling her. Second, after what you’ve done? _Sleeping_ beside her bothers you?” He scoffs a laugh. “Get ready to pay for my drinks. No way are you winning with that attitude.”

Grimory narrows his eyes and leans his head away. “So…to win…I need to sleep with her?” He grins a haughty grin. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“That’s not what he meant,” Anarchaia interjects, annoyed by his missing the point. _Please don’t leave._ “Wait, win? Win what?”

Grimory stands. “Too late. Hint taken. I’m going to bed, then. Wake me when we can actually fuckin’ go anywhere.”

 _Noooo!_ Anarchaia purses her lips. “Ugh. Fine.”

Koltira realizes he’s inadvertently sent the only person keeping things from being too painfully awkward away. He digs his thumb nail into the wood of the table. “Ana, I…” He sighs, not knowing what to say.

When Grimory is safely out of earshot, the mage sighs and lets her forehead fall onto the table, the impact causing the cups to rattle. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her thighs squeezing her hands tightly. “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_.”

“No, it— I—” Koltira growls. He slides down the bench to speak in hushed tones. “Ana, thank you. Seeing even an illusion…” He traces his fingertips across the back of her head.

Anarchaia sniffles but doesn’t look up. She grits her teeth and shakes her head. “Still. I shouldn’t have…manipulated you like that. I had so many chances to stop you…to stop _me_.” The shame and embarrassment cause tears to well in her eye. “S-so for that I’m sorry.”

 _Oh, Gods, is she crying?_ Koltira retracts his hand and threads his fingers together beneath the table. “It’s not your fault. Please stop apologizing.” He purses his lips and looks away. “Looks like I’ve become the one who’s just a regret.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen and she quickly raises her head. “No no no! It— I don’t _regret_ —” She _tsk_ s and rubs at her face with both palms. “It was a dumb idea that turned into a big, _pleasant_ mistake.” The speed of her talking increases as the discomfort does. “I-I really liked it and I’m just so scared that you regret it because my illusion failed and I’m scared you’re mad that I tricked you and now our relationship will never be the same and I’ll never be able to look at you without thinking about it and I just haven’t felt that way for so long and couldn’t stop myself because it just felt so _nice_ and…and…”

He reaches across the table to shoosh her with a fingertip to her lips. “Stop.” He sighs and stares down at his hands. “My only reservation over what happened is that someone will get hurt. And it’s not either of us.” He looks pointedly at her. “And if I’d truly been mad when your illusion failed, then explain what happened after.”

Anarchaia swallows. “I’m not going to tell anyone. A-and…” She gives a curt shrug. “I just assumed it was a runaway effect. That…you felt you were already in deep and may as well follow through.” She turns to put her head on the table again. “I know you wouldn’t have actually wanted to do that with _me_ , so I see no other logical reason.”

He glances at her and resist jumping up to shake some sense into her. “No. None of that is right.”

She turns her head toward him so that her temple rests against the table instead and glowers up with an unenthusiastic stare. “Come on, Koltira. I’m not fishing for compliments here so the least you can do is be honest. You can’t tell me anything I haven’t already heard.”

“You’re right,” he says. “I’ve already told you that you’re beautiful.” He smirks. “And I’m sure you’ve already been complimented on your skill and enthusiasm.”

The mage flinches, not actually having expected him to say something nice. She lifts her head and stares down at her hands for a long moment. _Compliment him back, you idiot._ “That was…the best I’ve had in a long, long time.” She blushes and looks away, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Your stamina is impressive.”

Koltira purses his lips and shifts his eyes away, discomfort rising in him over the compliment. He clears his throat. “So, probably off to see Odyn tomorrow, then?”

 _If the awkwardness doesn’t kill us first._ “Sadly,” she mutters. “If Ali is awake by then, that is…” _Oh gods. Ali can never find out. She’ll cut my head off—undead or not._

Koltira shoves his face into his palms at the mention of his wife. _She can never, ever find out. I’m the worst person in the world._ “I’m sure she’ll wake up soon,” he mutters into the heels of his hands.

“I’m sure she will,” Anarchaia repeats. She suddenly groans and holds her head. “Grim knows.”

“How do you know? Did you tell him?” The elf’s eyes widen. “Will he tell _her?_ ”

“No, of course I didn’t. He just… I don’t know. I can tell,” she replies. “And…he may. He has no proof, however. Not sure if that matters to her.” The mage groans again and folds her arms over the table, placing her face into them. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh my _gods_ ,” Koltira growls. “If you say you’re sorry one more time I’m going to push you through the death gate without a disguise and with no way to get back.”

She shifts her head to look up at him but remains hunched over. “Well you may as well just do so. Perhaps they’ll kill me so Alisbeth doesn’t have to.”

“I have a better idea. Let’s go back to Odyn now, just us, and ask him to squish us under his feet. Because you know she’s going to kill me, too. We’re both dead.” He narrows his eyes, then chuckles at his own words.

Anarchaia gives a small smile. “She wouldn’t kill you. She loves you too much.” She sighs. “Me, however…” A shudder goes up her spine and she wraps her arms around herself. “All right, enough talking about this. It’s over. It won’t happen again. No one will find out.”

Koltira chews on his bottom lip. “I told Grim I challenged you to archery, loser put a toad down their shirt. I implied you lost. I…don’t know if he believed it.” He stretches. “You’re right. From now on, not another word about this. From either of us.” He drums his fingertips on the tabletop and looks away from her, trying to forget how she looked in the moonlight and trying to think of a new conversational topic. He clears his throat. “Nice weather we had today…”

 _Nooo,_ Anarchaia thinks, dismay filling her once again. _I told him something else! Ugh. He did that on purpose. Grim, you asshole._ She nods and looks away as well as though reading his thoughts. “Y-Yeah. The sky was pretty clear. I like the stars.” She buries her face in her arms again and crosses her legs beneath the table. “But I prefer the rain.”

The awkwardness presses in on Koltira and he stands so abruptly that the bench falls over. He rights it, then gives her an apologetic smile. “I’m just going for some fresh air. I’ll be around back…if you need anything.”

Anarchaia flinches at the noise, her head shooting up. She calms after a second of realization and places a hand on her forehead. “Y-Yeah. Okay. Sure. Have fun.” She cringes at herself beneath her mask and is happy he can’t see.

He gives an awkward wave and a smile that is half cringing, then leaves the tavern and rushes to his spot overlooking the cliff. He sits, dangling his legs over the side, and takes deep, useless breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. His hands shake as he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. _Why don’t I regret it?_ he thinks. _I shouldn’t want it to happen again…but I do. What the fuck is wrong with me?_ He growls into the fog creeping up from the bay and begins throwing rocks into the white mass. He stays that way until dawn comes and burns away the mist. Still, he throws every rock he can find.

Anarchaia sits at her spot at the table for a long while, only looking up when a familiar vrykul patron from earlier comes down to use the showers. She smiles and waves before burying her face again, shifting again as the soreness between her legs returns. _Stop thinking about it. It didn’t mean anything. He’s only saying you’re beautiful because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. It’s the same reason he didn’t stop when the illusion broke. He’s too nice to tell you the truth. He only did it because you looked like someone else. He’d never do it again unless you used another illusion._ She pauses and clenches her jaw. _You don’t want it to happen again, though. …do you?_ Her teeth graze at her lower lip and she groans helplessly, stretching her arms across the table. “I do, though.”


	35. Chapter 35

“Have you been sitting there all night?” Grimory asks, scratching at his healing wounds as he sits across from Anarchaia. He yawns and hails the now familiar tavern maid.

“So what if I have?” The mage responds into the table. “Is Alisbeth awake yet?”

The Illidari puts in his order—bacon and ale—and leans forward to push Anarchaia’s head up. “I can’t hear you like that.”

“Is Alisbeth awake yet?” she repeats.

“Oh, no.” He releases her head and the girl’s face smacks back down onto the table. “Must have been one hell of a potion.”

Anarchaia groans. “I just want to get moving again.”

Koltira rubs at his face and stands. He heads back into the inn, hoping Grimory is awake and has left the room. Upon entering the tavern and seeing the demon hunter, he sighs and hold out his hand for the key. “Gonna go check on Ali.”

Grimory looks up, bacon hanging from the corner of his mouth, and slowly hands over the key. “Was just in there, but okay.”

“And?” the death knight prods.

Grimory swallows his food. “She’s fine?” he replies in a similar tone.

Koltira’s brow drops in annoyance. “Thank you for that insight. Excuse me.” His eyes flick momentarily to Anarchaia, then he clears his throat and leaves the room, making it a point to not look behind him.

“It would seem my advice has done little,” Grimory muses as he chews. “Or he’s forgotten everything I told him yesterday.”

Anarchaia refuses to lift her head. “He just wants to get a move on, too, I’m sure. I think we’re all tired of these…hindrances.”

“Could be worse.” The demon hunter shrugs. “We could all still be in Helheim.”

“I think I’d rather be,” she mutters under her breath.

~ * ~

The death knight looks down at Alisbeth and sighs. He drops the key to the table and pulls out his toiletries, retrieving some oils. He methodically works one through her hair, brushing it smooth afterward. Another, thicker oil he uses on her skin, stripping her down and working it all the way to her toes. With care, he turns her over and oils her back. Once finished he redresses her in clean clothes and pulls the blanket back over her. He puts everything away and groans, then heads back to the tavern to find something else to occupy his time.

“You can’t do that, Grim,” Anarchaia says tiredly from behind the black pieces of a chess board. “A knight can only move in these directions.” She traces a line through the squares with her finger.

“But it’s a _knight_. Shouldn’t he be able to just chop his way through a bunch of pawns?” Grimory pushes the horse piece through her line of pawns.

The mage grunts and swats his hand away, resetting the pieces. “Perhaps in reality, but this is _chess_. There are _rules_.”

“I don’t like rules.”

“Clearly,” she hisses, rolling her eyes.

Koltira sets himself sideways on the bench beside Grimory, one boot flat on the seat. He props up his elbow and leans his cheek against his fist. After staring at the board for some time he says, “Ana has checkmate in seven moves. Six if you’re smart about it.”

“Implying I wouldn’t be _smart about it_?” Anarchaia responds with raised eyebrows.

“I merely meant if you make sure he doesn’t anticipate a certain move. I’m sure you already know which one.”

“I was just messing with you,” the mage says timidly.

Grimory narrows his eyes down at the board. “I think I’m more of a checkers guy. Less…stuff to know.” He moves out a pawn and scowls when it’s taken. “And playing with a mage really isn’t fair to begin with.”

“Koltira knows what he’s doing.” Anarchaia lowers her chin to the table to look over the board at its level. “He’s not a mage.”

Koltira gazes around the tavern. “What time is it?”

She conjures her pocket watch and flicks it open. “Eleven thirty-six.” It disappears in a puff of violet smoke. “Why? Got a date? Heh.” She takes another of Grimory’s pawns.

Koltira raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t look at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He purses his lips. “No, I’m just…counting.”

“Every potion has an effective duration of around eight hours, so she’ll likely be asleep for some multiple of eight. No, Grim. The bishop can only move diagonally—here.” She moves his piece to take hers.

“This isn’t the bishop?” He points.

“No, that’s your king.”

“But it’s got a cross on top of it.”

“ _It’s your king._ ”

The demon hunter scowls. “This game is silly.”

“But how long was she out before I found her?” the death knight muses, completely ignoring their chess game.

“That’s a fair point,” Anarchaia responds with a nod. “I suppose we won’t know until she wakes.” Growing bored herself, she flicks one of her pawns at Grimory’s broad chest.

The Illidari flinches. “I’m not an expert but I don’t think that’s a valid move.” He flinches again when another hits him between the eyes.

The mage giggles quietly. “Checkmate.”

Koltira rubs bored palms across his face. “Can we just carry her to Odyn? Please? Pretty please? I need to get out of this inn. I need to do something. We should go. Let’s go.” He stands abruptly.

The duo glance up at him, then one another. “Uh…okay. Sure.” Grimory stands and stretches. “So all these hours count toward the bet right?” He says with a smirk.

Anarchaia says nothing and uses her magic to replace the pieces within the wooden board; she closes it and places it back on the bookshelf.

“Nope. Your job doesn’t start until she’s awake.” Koltira heads for their room, waiting for the demon hunter to catch up and unlock it.

Grimory follows and shoulders the door open after slipping the key in. “Need help this time?”

Koltira shrugs as he dons his armor. “If you desperately want to, fine. Have at it.” Once in his gear he shoulders the two death knights’ bags, and slips their weapons crisscross behind his shoulders.

“I was only joking,” Grimory grumbles with a raised eyebrow. “You carry her.” He grabs Anarchaia’s bag and robes. “I’m sure all that walking last night’s prepared you enough.”

He shrugs again. “Whatever.” Koltira lifts Alisbeth from the bed, this time more prepared for her limp state. He cradles her in his arms, then exits the room.

Grimory rolls his eyes and follows, locking the door behind him. When back downstairs, he hands Anarchaia her clothing and she happily accepts.

“I almost forgot I had them,” she chuckles, throwing them over her head. “Ready?” She avoids looking at the unconscious girl in Koltira’s arms. “Shouldn’t take but a few hours.”

“Good. Rather be out walking than just sitting around waiting.” Koltira clenches his jaw as he glances at Anarchaia walking in front of him. More scenes replay in his mind and he scowls, doing his best to fight off the urge to act on the thoughts his memories are creating.

The mage pulls her hood up as they step back out into the fresh air outside. “Same, actually.” She furrows her brow, feeling Koltira’s gaze at her back; she pushes down the unease. _Just act normal, Ana. The more you do that the quicker things will go back to the way they were._

Grimory rests an elbow on Anarchaia’s shoulder as they walk, his other hand at his hip. “So we get to kick more demon ass, right? Hope Ali doesn’t miss it. She’ll be disappointed.”

The death knight smirks. “Yes. I’m sure she’d enjoy that. Just…everyone watch out for rampaging brutes.”

“We probably shouldn’t even go that far until she’s awake,” Anarchaia mumbles. “She’d be a liability and could get hurt.”

Grimory laughs, ignoring the small voice beside him. “That was priceless. Nearly trampled Ana.” He pats her on the head. “Stay on your feet this time.”

The mage scowls. “I’m on my feet more often than you.”

The demon hunter shrugs and grins. “Can’t argue.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “How far can you levitate a person?”

Anarchaia turns her head to look at him out the corner of her eye. “A queer question. Why?”

“Well, we have a couple of options here. I fight one-handed with her over my shoulder or you ‘carry’ her through, or you levitate her over the whole mess and into the temple.” He gives her the faintest of smiles, though he’s trying to remain passive.

“I’d be extremely vulnerable, then. You’d have to protect me.” She turns to look ahead, swallowing. “But I could. It isn’t a terrible idea.”

Koltira smiles this time. “I would never let anything happen to you.” A shock of panic runs through him as he realizes how it sounded. “After all, if you go down, so does Ali.” _Fixed!_

Anarchaia clenches her jaw and flushes at his tone. “We can try,” she responds casually as though her heart didn’t just flutter within her ribs.

“Anything wanting to get to you has to get through me, first,” Grimory says with an air of confidence. “And you haven’t been hurt yet, hm?”

The mage gives a hollow chuckle and pats his arm. “I suppose not. You’ve always been a good bodyguard. Heh.”

When they do finally reach the bridge leading to the swarming demons in front of the Halls of Valor, Koltira holds Alisbeth out. “If you get too tired to hold her up any longer, let me know. We should rush, spend as little time getting through as possible.” He looks pointedly at the demon hunter. “We don’t want to wear Ana out.”

Anarchaia nods and takes Alisbeth into her possession, holding the girl high above her head before gravity pushes back and she can push her no further. For extra measure, she throws a productive shell of energy around herself. “All set.”

Grimory grins and takes off down the bridge like a horse from the gates, claws ready and already slashing everything in his path to shreds.

The mage blinks and jogs after him. “W-wait! I can’t run very quickly like this!”

Koltira keeps pace with the mage as best he can, catching stragglers which the demon hunter had angered, but not slain. “Don’t worry,” he says to the mage, “I’m right by your side.”

“I trust you,” Anarchaia chuckles, stepping over a dismembered arm. Her arms tremble some as a blast of fel fire washes over her barrier. “Ugh, Grim! Watch out!”

“Sorry!” the Illidari calls with a grin, already spattered with glowing green ooze. “Figured you’d be okay!”

“Ana, faster!” Koltira shouts as a moarg brute comes stomping up behind them. He turns, slashing at its legs and lower belly. Byfrost slices deep; the brute’s intestines spill out on the ground, but it keeps swinging its arms, trying to smash its club onto Koltira.

The mage stumbles out of the way of the wave of viscera, leaping over some unidentifiable organ before picking up the pace. “Oh gods, _gross!_ ” she cries, weaving through the path Grimory made toward the gigantic staircase ahead. _Ugh, losing strength…_ She grits her teeth.

Grimory stops at the stairs and turns to gaze upon his handiwork, smoldering hands at his hips. “All clear!” He says with a grin as he watches Koltira clean up the stragglers.

The death knight finishes off a final imp and stands with the others. He brushes some entrails from himself, then positions to stand under Alisbeth, arms out to catch her.

Anarchaia gingerly sets the girl back into her husband’s arms before collapsing to her knees and puffing tiredly. After a second her eyes widen and she groans. The noise leads into laughter. “I—heh—could have teleported us here.”

Grimory looks down at her and shrugs. “But then I wouldn’t have gotten to kill more demons.” He holds out his hand. “You need to work out more.”

The mage accepts the help, her legs screaming as she stands. “It wouldn’t do much.” After a second to recover, she sighs and makes her way up the steps.

Koltira walks behind as a sort of barricade, should the mage stumble backward. “Anything we can do to help you?”

<<The soreness doesn’t help,>> she mutters in Gutterspeak. “I’ll be okay,” she responds with a breathless smile. “Just not used to running that much all at once.”

Grimory stretches as the party enters the massive hall once again, looking around. “So… Do we just, like, call him? Or…? He just kinda showed up last time.”

Koltira lifts an eyebrow as the mage complains about being sore. <<Did you hurt yourself?>> he asks in Gutterspeak in return.

Anarchaia flinches. <<Uh…Y-Yes! I was sitting in an uncomfortable position all night. Heh. My back hurts.>>

The demon hunter eyes the two suspiciously. “Wh—”

“You’ve returned!” Odyn’s familiar voice booms through the hall as his visage appears before them. “So tell me, were you successful?”

As Odyn’s voice echoes through the hall, Alisbeth snaps awake and flails in terror. Koltira holds her tighter and tries to calm her down. Her face sours to a glare and she slaps him across the face.

“What the hell was that for?” he demands.

“Like you don’t know!” She pushes away from him and stands on the other side of Anarchaia, arms folded with her scowl deepened to a pout.

The mage and Illidari turn to look at the scene and then one another. Snapping back to the situation at hand, Anarchaia elbows Grimory. “Fly up and tell him we…didn’t succeed.” She hesitates. “And ask if there’s any other way to gain his favor.”

The demon hunter sighs and spreads his wings, lifting off the ground to do as he’s told.

Anarchaia shoots an apprehensive glance at Koltira before turning to Alisbeth. “Ali! Are you all right? What happened? We were so worried.”

Alisbeth smiles up at Odyn. “Hi!” she shouts. She turns her smile to Anarchaia. “I found a traveler taking a nap. He smelled like gin, so I searched his bags for a bottle and found _five!_ I drank them all. So, how did I get here?”

The mage furrows her brow. “Ali, those were sleeping po—”

“Hm. That _is_ troublesome,” Odyn booms, stroking his beard of lava. “Normally I’d ask you to return and _truly_ prove your strength, but I happen to have another trial for you.”

Grimory folds his arms. “Oh? Like what?”

“Enter the Halls of Valor and defeat the trials that are laid before you. If you succeed in that, I’ll grant you my favor and aid in this endeavor of yours.”

Anarchaia blinks up at the god. “So…no Helheim? I think we can manage.” She cups her hands around her mouth. “ _THANK YOU!_ ”

Odyn gives a curt nod. “Good luck, champions.”

“Thank you!” Alisbeth shouts as she sprints over and hugs the god’s ankle. She runs back to Anarchaia’s side and hooks her elbow through the mage’s. “What were you saying?”

Koltira blinks at the other death knight. “Ali—”

She purses her lips at him and sticks her nose in the air. “Do you hear something, Agave?”

Anarchaia gives Koltira a sympathetic shrug and returns to speaking with Alisbeth. “You drank sleeping potions, Ali. You’ve been asleep for nearly two days.”

Grimory lands gently beside them. “You missed the second round of demon slaughtering.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes. “So everything that happened…didn’t?” She turns a cheerful smile on Koltira. “Okay, I’m not mad at you.” She skips to him and presses her lips to his.

A pang of guilt hits Koltira in the gut, but he smiles anyway. “Well, good. Because I’m glad you’re awake.”

Anarchaia’s stomach tightens and she can’t stop herself from looking away. _Are you jealous? What is wrong with you? Get ahold of yourself!_ She glances over at the doorway of swirling light to their left. “Not sure if we need supplies for this…”

Koltira’s eyes flit to Anarchaia before he forces them to look away. “What’s the plan?”

As though remembering Grimory existed at all Alisbeth gasps and leaps at him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders so she can pull on his horns. “You killed things without me? _How could you!_ ”

Grimory chuckles and winces. “Not my fault you were out cold. Maybe don’t drink mysterious liquids?”

Alisbeth frowns at Grimory. “It was supposed to be gin. You woulda drank it, too.” She reaches up and gives his nipple a quick twist, then goes back to link arms with Anarchaia. “What _is_ the plan?”

“Yeah, probably— _agh!_ ” Grimory hisses in pain and swats her hand away. He glances over at Anarchaia. “So…Halls of Valor. Isn’t that where we are?”

The mage nods. “Yes, but there appears to be more to this place than this. There’s a portal just over there but…I’m not sure if the four of us are adequate. None of us can heal wounds.”

“I can heal my own wounds!” Alisbeth jumps excitedly beside the mage.

“That doesn’t help Grim and me.” Anarchaia sighs and runs a palm over her head.

Koltira purses his lips. “She means someone more adept at it.”

“Speak for yourself. I can eat souls to heal myself.” The demon hunter places a hand over his chest to emphasize his point. “The only glass cannon here is you.” He pokes her in the sternum.

“Well none of you can heal _me_ , then. Regardless, we need to find someone. We’ll return to Dalaran and I’ll post an ad around the city.”

“All of us?” Koltira asks.

Alisbeth fidgets and smiles awkwardly. “Okay, but I’m not allowed to go many places unless someone is there to make sure I’m not getting into trouble because apparently I have a problem with not getting along with idiots in taverns…”

“That’s right. She needs a _babysitter_.” He stares pointedly at the demon hunter.

Grimory blinks then smiles. “Oh yeah! This is a good opportunity to prove you wrong.” He turns to poke Koltira in the chest. “Until this time tomorrow, that is.”

Anarchaia concentrates before opening a portal before her, the gateway humming as it swirls about. “You don’t have to come with, if you don’t want,” she says more to Koltira than anyone. “I figured you would prefer the change of scenery. But what do I know?” _You probably want to be as far away from me as possible._

“Oh, oh no. I’m coming,” Koltira says. “I want to see this idiot fail miserably. Liquor tastes _so_ much better when someone else pays for it.”

“Okay, what are we waiting for?” Alisbeth dives head-first into the portal.

“Better get after her before she starts harassing people and starting fights.” Koltira gestures for Grimory to go through.

The demon hunter rolls his eyes. “It’s not a victory if you’re telling me how to win.” He steps through without waiting for a response.

Anarchaia swallows and hesitates when the two are left alone. She holds up an arm. “After you. Heh.”

Koltira fidgets, running his fingers through his hair. His tongue falters on so many things he wants to say. So instead he smiles and steps through the portal.

Anarchaia cringes and gives another sigh before following as well; the portal closes behind her.

 


	36. Chapter 36

Alisbeth runs through the streets of Dalaran, a manic smile on her face as she weaves through the crowd. She runs into a shop with toys dangling from the ceiling and drops onto her rear in front of a toy train making the rounds on a circular track. She sticks her finger across the tracks, then cackles when it derails and tips onto its side.

Grimory quickly follows Alisbeth as he sees her hair trail into the toy shop. He huffs a sigh of relief when he finds her. “Ali, you gotta stay by me, okay? I’m taking care of you while we’re here. You don’t wanna get both of us in trouble, yeah?”

The death knight looks up at Grimory, a curious expression on her face. “Why am I staying with you? Where’s Kolty?”

Grimory frowns, feigning hurt. “You don’t want to be with me? I thought we were friends.”

Alisbeth frowns. “That’s not what I said. But, _he_ stays with me. Why are _you?_ ” She catches sight of a toy zeppelin and squeals. “Can I have a little zeppelin?” She jumps up to climb the demon hunter in an attempt to use his height to rip the toy from the ceiling.

Grimory pulls Alisbeth down from himself and sets her gently on the floor. “No, but I’ll buy you something that doesn’t fly.” He gives her a fangy smile, hoping the distraction is enough.

Alisbeth ignores the fangy smile entirely, staring past him at the door where a young high elf child with light blonde hair has entered with her mother. She squeals with joy and runs to the train set beside Alisbeth. The death knight smiles, biting her bottom lip. She kneels down and strokes the little girl’s hair.

“Do you like trains?”

The little girl smiles up at her. “They’re cool!”

“I like them, too.”

Grimory looks down at the woman in front of him, folding his arms. His face softens. _It’s like night and day with this girl._ He smiles. _There’s something very attractive about a motherly woman, though._ “You wanna buy her the train?” he asks quietly.

Alisbeth’s face lights up. “Oh, can we?” She smiles at the little girl then her mother. “Can we buy the train for her?”

“Pease mommy!” the little girl begs.

Her mother smiles. “I don’t see why not. That’s really very kind of you.”

Alisbeth returns her attention to the girl. “How old are you?”

“Five.”

The death knight tries to keep her smile, though her chin quivers the smallest amount and her eyes shine with tears she’s resisting. “Almost five, wow. You’re such a big girl.”

Grimory gives the woman a bashful smile and scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s nothing,” he says with a smile, observing the price at the front of the toy and leaving the amount on the counter behind him. He glances down at Alisbeth and kneels, a gentle hand on her back. “Are you gonna be okay, Ali?”

Alisbeth frowns at the demon hunter. “I’m fine, what do you mean?” She wipes her eyes and stands, running out of the toy shop as fast as she can.

A strike of panic runs through Grimory and he glances back at the mother. He gives a small nod and an embarrassed smile. “Uh…nice meeting you.” His boots nearly scuff across the floor as he chases after the death knight. “Ali, wait!”

“Hey,” Alisbeth hisses to a Forsaken warlock exiting the Dalaran Sewer. “Hey, come here. You gotta see this.”

“Okay, but make it quick,” he responds, following her into an alcove on the other side of the Violet Citadel.

Alisbeth yanks the scythe from his back and leers at him. “It won’t take but a moment.”

Grimory scans the crowd with desperate eyes, looking over heads for Alisbeth’s familiar white hair. He’s subconsciously drawn to the towering spire of the Violet Citadel. “ _Ali!_ ” he calls, pushing his way past multiple men and women. He curses under his breath when he sees no indication of her.

“What in gods’ names is this?” the warlock demands. “Give that back!”

Alisbeth holds out the scythe, then smacks him in the face at the last minute. “Your kind are a sickness in this world,” she hisses. She makes to cut through his belly, but only finds cloth as the curve of the weapon hits his spine; she jerks upward to hook behind his ribcage. She pulls the weapon back and he comes with. She shrieks in disgust as he slams against her. Angered, she pushes the weapon back and lifts the Forsaken, smacking him against the wall over and over. Green blood seeps from the wounds she is causing.

A blade rending through flesh and organs—a noise his tall ears are very accustomed to—cuts through the air to his right and Grimory turns his head just in time to see a flutter of white hair around the corner of an enclave beside the citadel. He bounds around said corner and grabs Alisbeth under the arms, wrenching her away.

“ _Ali, no! What are you doing?!_ ”

Alisbeth wriggles from Grimory’s grasp and drags the Forsaken through the grass as she backs away from the demon hunter. Tears spring from her eyes and her voice thickens with panic “He has to die! They all have to die! Don’t you understand that?” She emphasizes her point by flicking the scythe forward. The unconscious Forsaken flies from the weapon to smack against Grimory.

He stumbles some but catches the man in his arms. He grits his teeth. “I’m so sorry,” he hisses, lowering him into the bushes beside him. “Ali, it doesn’t matter what your opinion of them is!” He glances around to see if anyone has noticed his yelling, then lowers his voice anyway. “You can’t just kill people because you don’t like them! There are consequences for that shit!”

“I don’t _don’t like_ them!” Alisbeth argues. “ _They_ killed _me_ first! They’re awful…monsters…” Her speech becomes belligerent and unintelligible as she breaks down into hysterical sobs.

Grimory growls, her tears swaying him to comfort her, though he wants to appear stoic and serious as the situation calls for. He gives in and goes to her, leaning down to look up into her face. “Look, Ali. I understand that things happen and maybe people do deserve to have…whatever you did to this guy done to them. But just because one of them is bad doesn’t mean—” He flinches as she slaps him.

“Stop talking to me like I’m fucking five!” She shoves him to the ground and takes off into the crowded streets once more.

“I’m not—!” He grunts as he falls to the ground, then growls and scrambles back to his feet, taking off after her. “Ali, hold on!” He loses her in the dramatic shadows cast by the setting sun and stops, running a hand through his hair. “Gods damnit,” he breathes, looking around for her. _Well, I guess I’ve already fucking lost._

Alisbeth shoves her way to Krasus Landing, then drops down the broken wall and into the grass. She peers over the side at the sea below, then sits down to watch the angry skies over the green spire in the distance.

Grimory rubs at his face with both palms, then throws them in the air. “Whatever. Fuck it. Kill everybody. See what I care.” He turns into the Legerdemain Lounge and sits himself in a seat at the bar.

~ * ~

The mage’s face softens with a disappointed frown when she comes through the portal to find Grimory and Alisbeth already gone. “That didn’t last long,” she mumbles.

Koltira glances back at Anarchaia when she comes through. “They ran that way.” He jerks a thumb toward the north bank.

“Oh! Uh, actually I—” Anarchaia’s eyes widen and she gasps. “Oh no! I never contacted Master like I said I would! It’s been nearly two days.” She clenches her fingers against the sides of her head. “Ugh, I promised-- _twice!_ He’s going to be so disappointed. I-I’ll be back! Here!” She conjures a small violet token with a glowing eye etched upon it and thrusts it into his hand. “Go enjoy the city.” And with that, the mage disappears in a flash of light and sparkles.

Koltira raises one eyebrow and stares at the sparkles left in her wake. He inspects the token she’d given him. “What the…” He shakes his head and pockets it, then heads for the Filthy Animal, where he takes up a seat in the corner to silently watch the patrons. Deciding to do something rather than waste time, Koltira finds a quill and parchment, and pens a quick advert to nail on the message board outside. Then he waits at the inn for any prospective healers.

Koltira closes his eyes and sighs. When he opens his eyes a female blood elf has taken a seat across from him, her face set in a resting scowl. “I can heal. I don’t like to, but I can.”

The death knight looks her over. “And what sort of healer are you?”

“Priest. Can’t you tell?” Her voice remains monotone, her eyes sad under the bangs of her long black hair. “I can heal.”

Koltira clears his throat. “This is nothing personal. Really, it’s not. But I have to say no.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Holy magic…hurts my kind.”

“Fair enough. Good luck.” She stands and sweeps from the tavern, her skirt flowing around her feet, her movements so smooth she seems to be floating.

 _That was the weirdest, blandest priest I have ever met,_ he thinks.

“Never fear! Edrah is here!”

Koltira’s nerves jolt as a female blood elf enters the tavern, proclaiming her arrival with arms raised. A few men lift their mugs and cheer. The bartender hands her a bottle of rum. She pulls the cork out with her teeth and spits it into a nearby bin with astounding accuracy. She’s dressed as though she’s been living in the wilds for some time, an animal skull sits atop her head, with high antlers and fur down the back, the jaw has been split in two and attached to the top by leather straps that dangle to her own jaw. Her red pants are stitched together like patchwork, and her tan shirt seems to have been crafted from leather scraps and a few belts with shining silver buckles. She says ‘Hullo’ to those who seem to know her, each step she takes is a weaving one as though she’s already drunk.

“Who is this Koltira fellow that seeks a healer?” she shouts.

“You’re actually leaving the tavern?” a man asks.

She taps his nose and smiles. “Only for a short while.”

Koltira clears his throat loud enough for her to hear. “Over here.”

Edrah drops into the chair across from Koltira and smiles warmly. “So,” she says, her speech slurring with intoxication, “you need a healer. Ask anyone in this tavern and these blokes’ll tell you that I’m positutely the best around. Edrah’s the name, healing’s the game.”

Koltira realizes she smells like she bathed in vodka, and if it’s that pungent to him, with his lowered sense of smell, then he can only guess what she smells like to others. “What sort of a healer are you?”

“Monk,” she says after a hefty swig of rum. “I trained as a brewmaster, but found it lacking. I didn’t like the whole ‘everything wants to kill me’ thing. Learned the ways of a mistweaver, had a knack. Turns out, things just want to kill me even more now. Funny how that works.”

Koltira nods at the monk. “So, are you celebrating something?” He motions at the bottle of rum in her hand.

“Oh, no. Just a light afternoon drink.”

He blinks in quick succession. “Light.”

“Mm-hmm!” She takes a long pull from the bottle, then smiles at him.

Koltira sighs and decides to ask her questions as he would any candidate. “Our mission is one of great importance, so it’s imperative that we all go into it with a clear head.”

“Right.” She nods in agreement. “I understand matters such as these. I always go in clear-headed and ready to take care of my team. After all, you’d be my temporary family!”

Koltira pinches the bridge of his nose. “The drinking isn’t a problem, is it?”

Edrah shakes her head insistently. “Not at all! It’s never been a problem!”

“But…you’re drunk just past noon.”

She laughs brightly. “I was drunk before noon, too! Trust me, it’s not a problem.”

A shadow falls across the table. Koltira and the monk look up into the stern face of a troll. Her blue skin is smooth, indicative of her youth. Her dress is green with the sides open to expose her skin from shoulders to knees. The shoulder pads she wears have wings attached, which flutter impatiently. Her green hair is pleated in a tight braid out of her face.

“It’s filled,” Edrah says.

The troll rams the tip of her staff against the floor as a demand for silence, then turns her gaze to Koltira. “I was told Koltira was a death knight. You are a death knight. I will speak with you.”


	37. Chapter 37

Anarchaia stands outside Archmage Khadgar’s quarters for a long while, steeling herself and fidgeting with her fingers. When she’s built up enough confidence, she knocks on the door with the back of her knuckles. A moment passes before the lock clicks and the door opens. Anarchaia shrinks back and gives a timid smile at the much larger man. “Reporting in. Heh.” She flinches as Khadgar pulls her into a tight hug, but her arms reflexively return the embrace. “I…”

Khadgar pulls back, holding her at arm’s length and staring into her mask with stern eyes. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I know,” she whines, guilt flooding her heart. “I’m so sorry…” Anarchaia pauses. “Wait. If you were so worried I wouldn’t come back, why did you let me go in the first place?”

Khadgar furrows his brow down at her. “Would you not have gone if I’d told you not to?”

“Well no. I’d probably still have tried.”

“Then you see my dilemma.”

“Regardless, I’m really sorry. No more leaving you in the dark.” She smiles. “I promise.”

The two mages speak briefly about all that’s happened and what soon will. Anarchaia, however, avoids certain details of the events of Helheim. “We didn’t succeed,” she explains with a sad smile. “But…I requested that we not return.”

“Hm. Sounds like a wise decision. What did he say?” Khadgar leans against the foot of his bed, hands on the footboard. Multiple pieces of parchment and quills scribble away at his desk nearby.

Anarchaia closes the door behind her. “He gave us a different task, thank gods. He wants us to go through the Halls of Valor as some sort of trial. We’re back here looking for a healer to accompany us.”

“How goes this ordeal with the death knight woman? Redblade?” Khadgar’s azure eyes follow the small undead as she paces.

“She doesn’t know about…me.” Anarchaia swallows and continues to fidget with her fingers. _Or what I did._ “And I think, if I can keep it up, she won’t.” She sighs. “She’s really a nice girl. A very tragic figure. She means well most of the time, I feel. But it’s her unpredictable nature that scares me most.” She runs a finger along the seam of the lounge sofa before the cold fireplace. “I’ll be okay.”

Anarchaia perks at the sound of shouting outside the window. She covertly makes her way toward it while speaking. “But the other one is a really nice guy. Heh.” She glances outside without turning her head. “He does a good job of keeping her in line…for the most part.” She bites her lip and fidgets more. _Oh no. They’ve lost her._ “S-so yeah!” Her robes swirl as she turns back toward her teacher. “I just wanted to stop by and tell you I’m fine and that we’re onto the next step in our process.” She crosses the distance between them in only a couple steps and throws her arms around his torso again. “I miss you,” she says quietly, then disappears out the door in a rush.

Khadgar blinks down at her, confusion apparent in his aged face. He makes to return the hug but she’s already pulled away and left by the time he’s raised his arms. They fall back to his sides and he sighs as the door closes. “I miss you, too.”

Anarchaia’s robes flow against the immculate stone floor as she rushes down the hallway toward the exit to the Hall, doing her best not to look in a hurry. She steps out onto the staircase outside and glances around desperately as she makes her way down them. _Ugh. This is bad._

“Well, well, well. Look who’s once again decided to grace Dalaran with her presence.”

The mage stiffens at the thickly accented voice and she turns to see a familiar face looking up at her from her hip’s height. A goblin, adorned in metal goggles, leather, and many feathers grins up at her. His blond hair is pulled back into a fluffy ponytail and the seafoam skin across his cheeks stretches as he grins. “Not now, Steamvolt,” she says with a polite hand wave and turns back toward where she’d last seen Grimory. She then pauses and turns back to him with a wide smile. “Steamvolt! You’re a shaman!”

The man shrinks back at her sudden outburst, his cyan eyes narrowing. “Yes…?”

“You heal, yes?”

“…Yes?”

“Good!” she says excitedly, completely forgetting about Alisbeth for the moment. “You love me, right?”

The goblin’s eyes narrow further. “What is it you’re looking for?”

“Me and a few friends are working on a task given to us by a god,” the mage says hurriedly. “Could you—”

“That demon hunter meat-head?”

Anarchaia stops and clenches her jaw. “Yes.”

“Mmhm. Go on.”

“We need someone to heal for us during our trial.” She bends at the waist and pushes up her mask to give him a flirty smile. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Steamvolt lifts a hand to poke a hard finger into her forehead, pushing her back up. “Don’t do that. You know I don’t like it.” He gives a helpless shrug. “Sorry, girlie. As much as I’d love to, I got a shop to look after. Can’t just leave all willy-nilly.”

Anarchaia sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I guess you have a point. Thanks anyway, Gildwynn.” She pushes past him with a curt pat between his large ears.

“If you need anything else _within_ the city, don’t hesitate to ask!” Steamvolt calls after. “You know where to find me!”

The mage gives a wave but doesn’t look back, making her way for the tavern on the other side of town and thinking it best to start there with her posting.

Anarchaia stops outside of the inn conjoined with the Chamber of the Guardian, noticing a flyer similar to the one she had planned on making. Her lips move silently as she reads it with narrowed eyes. “Oh,” she chirps. “Well. All right, then. Less work for me.” She makes her way down the ramp leading to The Filthy Animal, giving a curt wave to the Deathguard as she passes. Her eyes immediately flick to the corner of the dimly lit tavern where Koltira is speaking with a blood elf woman and what appears to be a troll. She slides in, arms behind her back. “Hey, guys. What’s goin’ on here?”

 _Oh, thank gods,_ Koltira thinks. “I’m just—”

“The position is filled, missy. Go bother someone else.” The monk pokes the troll in the stomach.

The troll’s eyes narrow. “I am also trained extensively in the ways of the Guardian. Do not make me show you what the children of Ursoc are capable of.”

Anarchaia blinks at the altercation before her, then steps between the two. “Hey now, ladies. Let’s be civil, here. Everyone will get a fair chance, all right?” The overwhelming smell of alcohol hits her in the face and she stops, blinking in amazement and turning to the monk. “I…can smell the alcohol on you. Are you intoxicated?”

Edrah snorts. “It’s my perfume.” She laughs and takes another drink.

The troll smiles at the small mage, her long tusks making it seem like a strange grimace. “A fair chance is all I be desiring. The poster said to speak to Koltira. I will speak to Koltira.”

The death knight sends Anarchaia a desperate plea of a look.

Anarchaia catches the death knight’s eyes and sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Koltira is my friend. And I’m sort of…the leader? I guess? Of our party? So I’m just as capable of making this decision.” She turns to Edrah, hands together and all fingertips pointing to the monk. “If we were to take you with us, you _cannot_ be drunk. This is all very important to me—to _us_ —and I can’t have it botched.”

“Edrah? Sober?” a man barks behind her. The room bursts into laughter.

“Button it, Barton!” Edrah shouts over the din. She gives him a shove. “I already told your boyfriend it won’t be a problem.”

Koltira’s ear tips warm. “Sh-she’s not— We’re not—”

Anarchaia visibly flinches, her cheeks filling with color. She pulls her mask over the rest of her face to hide it. “We aren’t _together_ ,” she finishes for him, avoiding looking over. The laughter from the men behind her sends an irritation creeping through her chest and she narrows her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think bringing you along is a good idea. If any of us gets mortally wounded, I can’t risk what could happen…”

Edrah stands abruptly. She pokes the mage in the chest; Anarchaia flinches at the prod. “I have never let a teammate fall because of my drinking. This,” she wiggles the bottle in Anarchaia’s face, “is _not_ and has never _been_ a problem. Ask anyone. I demand fair consideration, like booger-head over there.”

The druid glares at Edrah. “You insult like a child. Why don’t you be finding a party looking to conquer Pandaria, again? I’m sure it would be more your skill level.”

Anarchaia flinches a second time as she’s prodded. Despite being shorter, she straightens her back and puffs up her chest. “I gave you fair consideration. You’re showing less competence than this other candidate with your drunkenness. You’re attempting to use intimidation to get what you want. I don’t like your attitude.” She grits her teeth. “But if you’re really so certain you can impress me with your skill, I’ll give you that opportunity.”

Edrah smiles warmly. “I am so sorry for my rudeness. I’m sure even you might dislike having your skill called into question. I won’t ever utter a hurtful word to you again.”

“A promise made with liquor be an empty one,” the troll mutters.

Anarchaia tilts her head in annoyance but doesn’t turn to look at the troll. “Great. Good. Awesome. We’ll—I don’t know—go down into the sewers where dueling is permitted. Whomever outheals the other can accompany us.”

“I accept this challenge,” the troll says. She sweeps past the shorter women, sticking out the tip of her staff to catch the monk’s foot.

Edrah spills forward onto Anarchaia, her bottle crashing to the floor as she screams out. Anarchaia yelps.

“That wasn’t bloody nice!” She helps to right the mage and dusts off the other’s robes. “Please don’t hold that against me, she tripped me.”

Koltira stands. “All right. Edrah versus…I’m sorry, you never said your name.”

The druid smiles. “I am Juliember. Friends call me Jules. _You_ may not.”

He nods. “That’s fair as we’ve only just met.”

The rum on the floor seeps into the hem of Anarchaia’s robes. “It’s fine,” she responds, then puts both palms over her face when the two women make for the door. “Why is everyone always so difficult?” she groans quietly, then steels herself before following.

“I feel as though you’re directing that at me,” Koltira says, then adds under his breath. “Which is fair.”

Anarchaia follows and groans again. “No, not you. You’re…surprisingly one of the easier people to get along with.” _Obviously._

Grimory sighs as he finishes his drink, finally deciding to give in and go looking for Alisbeth. He steps out into the busy streets and runs a hand through his hair again, glancing over the many heads.

The mage blinks as they round the corner onto the streets at the end of the ramp. “Oh. Grim.” She smiles. “Actually, perfect. You can come with us. Wait, where’s Ali?”

The demon hunter hesitates and gives a smile. “We were at the toy shop. She refused to leave so…here I am. Waiting for her.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “So you left her alone. In a toy shop. Do you have any idea… You know what? Not my problem today.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

The Illidari folds his arms over his chest and acts as though the information is unworthy of his time. “I’ve been keeping an eye on her. Trust me.” The vision of the undead man’s mangled body flashes through his head and he swallows. “She’ll be out any minute. Go on ahead and I’ll meet you…wherever it is you’re going.”

Alisbeth climbs up the rocks back onto Krasus Landing and heads for the flight master. “I would like to go somewhere,” she says to him.

“Where to?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

He chuckles. “How about Lorlathil. Beautiful at sunset. That’s five gold.”

Alisbeth frowns. “I don’t have any gold. Kolty has it.”

Aludane Whitecloud sighs. “Well, I’m sorry, but you either get that gold or you don’t fly.”

“The sewers,” Anarchaia responds, pulling her hood up. “You’re going to duel Koltira.”

Grimory’s brow furrows and he glances up at the death knight, then grins cockily. “Oh. All right. I’d ask why, but it’d be uncharacteristic of me to pass up a fight.”

Koltira rolls his eyes. “We’re testing out a few applicants for—”

“This!” The poster is shoved in his face by a frantic draenei in gleaming white armor. “I go. Yes?”

Koltira grabs the poster and gives her a painful smile. “I’m sorry, but, you are unfit for the job. I’d rather not deal with the pain.”

She stares at him for a long time. “I go. Yes?”

He purses his lips. “No.”

She stays still for a long time, her lips pursed at him. “I go.” She pushes a finger into the poster.

Koltira’s brow lowers as he grows unamused. “How did you even read this?”

She stares at him, a blank expression on her face, then points at the paper. “Heal. I heal. Koltira.” She points at him, then at a guard, indicating where she got the information. “I heal. I go. Yes?”

Koltira tears up the poster in frustration. “No. No room. All full. No.”

She purses her lips and stares at the group. “Full?” She smiles. “Okay. I heal _big_ group.” She gives them all thumbs up, then shoulders her huge mace and walks back to the message board.

Anarchaia watches the interaction and giggles quietly into her fingertips. When the woman finally relents and walks away, she slinks up next to Koltira again. “We speak Draenei, you know.” She motions to Grimory and herself.

He visibly deflates. “Well, thank you for stepping in to help. Your assistance was appreciated.”

“Ha!” The troll barks a laugh. “I like this Koltira.”

“I liked him first!” Edrah shouts.

Juliember rolls her eyes. “That will not sway their votes, _monk_.”

Alisbeth shoves past the two healers, knocking Edrah to the ground while bouncing from the sturdy troll’s side. She dives at Koltira, her hand reaching into his gold pouch. “Ineedthisokay?Okaythanksbye!” She runs back between the healers toward the archway.

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “That’s not the direction of the toy shop. Wonder what she needs the gold for on Krasus Landing.” He gives an evil chuckle. “I think I’ll have a nice aged whiskey first. A really expensive one.” He laughs again and heads for the sewers entrance, the healers follow him

“But you looked like you were having so much fun,” Anarchaia responds with a grin. “I’d hate to deprive you of that.” She turns and leaps down the short ledge instead of walking the path.

Koltira leans against the pole and turns to the guard. “How long until your people take a break?”

The guard cocks an eyebrow. “Five minutes.” He looks around, then whispers, “Make it worth my while and I’ll call them back now.”

The death knight smiles. “That’s fine. We’re waiting for a friend.”

Anarchaia sizes up the two women, folding her arms. “The boys’ll duel—” she lolls her head toward Koltira “—as nicely as possible—” she turns back “and whomever can keep the other up the longest wins. Any questions?”

Juliember sniffs. “Who be healing who?”

Koltira shrugs. “You heal me and Edrah, you heal Grimory.”

“Is he that shirtless bloke we just saw?” She smiles. “Nice. I’d like to wrap my soothing mist around him, if you know what I mean.”

The troll rolls her eyes. “I hope your heals be better than your jokes, or he may die.”

 

~ * ~

 

Grimory catches sight of Alisbeth and scampers over to the sewer entrance. By the time he gets there, however, she’s already turned around and running back toward Krasus’ Landing, and the two collide. He stumbles but remains on his feet. “Ali! Wait, don’t go!” He holds his arms out as if wrangling an unruly horse. “I want to apologize…”

Alisbeth spins to face Grimory, a wide smile on her face. “I’m going to Lanladron! Wanna come?”

Grimory blinks, not expecting her to be cheerful, then scowls at himself and his ignorance. “You know what?” he responds with a smile. “I would love to. In fact, I’ll pay for the trip. Just you ‘n me. We can do whatever you want. But I got something I gotta do down in the sewers first. If you come with me and wait patiently for me to get done, we’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day. How’s that sound?”

Alisbeth jumps in excitement. “Anything at all?” She wraps her arm in his and squishes the side of her face into the bicep. “Okay!”

Grimory gives a sigh of relief and leads her down to meet the others, a hand over Alisbeth’s as if to make sure she’s still there. “Okay, so…what’s the plan here?” he asks.

“You and Kolt will duel. The healer that heals best wins,” Anarchaia drones, tired of explaining. “But we have to wait for the guards to go off duty, first.” She turns to glare at the demon hunter. “And don’t be so rough. I’m so tired of telling you that.”

Grimory bites his tongue, clearly holding back words. “Fine,” he says, then gives Koltira a charming smile. “May the most healed win.”

Alisbeth purses her lips, still clinging to Grimory. “So…they’re fighting on purpose this time? We’re letting them do this?”

Koltira smiles at her. “Don’t worry. These two will make sure nothing terrible happens to your play thing.”

Alisbeth thinks on this. “Okay. No throwing the sword.”

The guard cups his hands around his mouth. “SEWER GUARDS! TIME TO TAKE A BREAK!”

“Kiss for luck?” Koltira says.

Alisbeth skips to him and presses a sloppy kiss on his lips as she giggles. “Stupidest tradition ever. You’re going to lose just for having me do that.”

Again, Anarchaia finds herself looking away, then grits her teeth at her own actions. Her gaze unintendedly finds Grimory’s, who grins down at her. “Kiss for luck?” he mocks, hands on his hips.

The mage purses her lips, unamused. “Win and I might.”

Grimory shrugs, his grin unwavering as he steps out into the foggy open room of the sewers. “I’ll take it.”

Koltira follows Grimory, then stands across from him. “Ladies first,” he says.

Grimory’s arms morph to twice their size and darken to a smoky black, the tips of his claws smoldering. “You heard the man,” he says back to the troll woman who’s positioned herself behind Koltira.

Juliember rolls her eyes and lifts a hand. Emerald energy swirls about Grimory’s body, eking from his skin.

The demon hunter chuckles, having not expected her to listen. “Thanks!” He lunges forward, claws splayed and coming across Koltira’s torso in a diagonal, upward motion.

Koltira dodges backward as the claws slash through his shirt and leave tiny red trails. Droplets of blood pool in the marks. He doesn’t wait for a heal to come and lunches at Grimory, Byfrost raised to sweep across the demon hunter’s chest.

Juliember lifts her hand again, throwing a Lifebloom onto Koltira, her expression one of concentration and unenthusiasm.

Grimory cries out as the blade tears through his skin and muscle. Blood pours from the wound and into the stone floor. Severely wounded, he recovers despite the pain and slashes again—this time aiming for the throat.

Edrah purses her lips and cocoons the demon hunter in a sphere of green. She throws a renewing mist out, surrounding him with a green aura, then hits him with an enveloping mist which triggers her soothing mist. She channels continuously while bouncing triumphantly behind him, sticking her tongue out at the druid.

Distracted by the bouncing monk, Koltira sees the attack too late. Demonic claws rip into his throat. His eyes go wide as he throws a hand over the wound and stumbles backward.

Alisbeth screams out. “Kolty, no!” She runs for the arena.

“Wait!” Anarchaia grabs Alisbeth by the back of her shirt, yet cringes and closes her eyes. “He’ll be fine! _Grim! Not so rough!_ ”

Juliember grits her teeth in annoyance and throws a quick swiftmend. Koltira’s wound seals shut and the bleeding immediately stops. She gives a satisfied grunt but doesn’t smile.

Grimory grits his teeth and scoffs, ignoring Anarchaia. “You’ll have to be faster, pretty boy.”

Koltira gives the druid a thankful nod, then smirks at Grimory. “Faster isn’t always better.” He lunges, swinging Byfrost to cut diagonally across the demon hunter’s torso.

Alisbeth throws her arms over Anarchaia’s shoulders and buries her head into the other’s shoulder. “I can’t watch! I don’t want either of them to get hurt again!”

Anarchaia grits her teeth. _I don’t, either._ She pats Alisbeth on the back and hugs her. “It’ll be okay. They’ll be healed every time they get hurt.”

The blade slices through muscle in nearly the exact fashion it had before and Grimory’s blood spills forth to join the rest on the ground. He takes a moment to recover, breathing heavily through grit fangs and trying to seem unaffected. He steps forward quickly, aiming more slashes at the man's stomach.

Edrah stops wiggling around, her lips curve down in concentration. She throws more heals that will slowly bring seal his wounds, then resumes channeling the green mist to him.

“But you don’t like them like I do,” Alisbeth objects. She peeks over to see a torrent of blood spilling from a slowly healing wound in Grimory’s chest, them buries her face again.

Anarchaia scowls, but continues to hold the distraught woman. _You have no idea._

“Hey, I know that guy…” a male voice says behind Anarchaia. “I fought him once. He’s really good.”

“Is he the one that ‘Nu chopped up?” a female voice asks on a laugh.

“She only disabled him a little.”

Grimory steps forward, aiming more slashes at the man’s stomach.

Koltira leaps backward and trips over the druid. “Sorry! Sorry.” He clambers to his feet and swings Byfrost up and around to hit Grimory in the collar bone.

The mage blinks when a familiar voice floats up from behind her, echoing off the close walls of the sewer. She turns her head to look for the source.

Juliember stumbles some but does not fall. The corner of her lip twitches. “Just watch where you’re going.” She moves out of the way as Grimory comes rushing through, a claw coming around to sweep at the death knight’s leg while the other pushes the sword away from him, the blade somewhat biting the morphed flesh.

The monk panics and uses a revival when she hears the slash of the blade. His wounds heal entirely and she curses for having used such a strong ability for a scratch.

Koltira’s pants tear open and deep claw marks gouge into his leg. He screams out, twisting at the waist to gain enough momentum for the swing he’s readied for Grimory’s middle.

Juliember lifts her staff and sends a spell of regrowth to the death knight, healing his wounds and encasing him with green magic.

Asheeda glances down, then does a double take. “Oh, hey! You’re still with that oaf? Did you finish early? _Oh!_ Did you find any rare new herbs for me to look at?”

The paladin beside him clears her throat behind her blue-winged helm. “Introduce us?” She tugs on the arm her hand is wrapped in.

Alisbeth jumps up in excitement. “Crockalisk skin!” She runs over to smooth her hands along his arms and legs as she giggles.

“Oh! No, we’re just…onto the next phase in our journey. Testing out healers. And I’m sorry but… I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really looking. Heh. But how have you been?” Anarchaia smiles beneath her mask, too distracted to watch the fight.

Grimory attempts to leap back out of the way but it’s too late. The end of the sword slices straight through his stomach. Another wave of red spatters the stone and he falls to his knees with an arm wrapped over the wound. After a brief moment of vomiting blood, he spits and stands shakily as one of his arms twists back to its original state. He takes a step but falls back to a knee, growling in pain.

Edrah screams out in shock. “Dodge the bloody attacks, you wanker!” She pops the cork of a clay bottle, lightning zaps from the opening. The monk swallows back a quick shot, becoming enveloped in lightning, then burps out a stream of green mist that washes over Grimory. After throwing out an instant heal over time, she hits him with heal after heal until he’s well enough that she can resume the steady stream of mist to bring him back up. “Get up, you twat!”

Grimory gives a deep sigh of relief as the pain quickly subsides. The blood loss, however, causes his head to swim. He jerks his head back to look at the monk. “Would you just do your job and I’ll do mine?” He spits some residual blood from his mouth, then lunges for Koltira again, slashing at his stomach as if out of spite.

“That’s okay,” Asheeda says. “I’m just glad to see you back in one piece.” He glances at the fighting pair and winces. “Mostly.”

The paladin pulls off her helmet and yanks on his arm again.

“Oh! Ana…I’m sorry, I forgot your full name. Been busy studying dreamleaf from Val’sharah. Did you know that the—”

“ _Eh-hem!_ ”

“Right. This is Xrla. I joined _her_ group, which wasn’t doing too much dangerous stuff and allowed me to come along.”

The paladin’s smile is small and calm. “Nice to meet you.”

“Anarchaia,” the mage says with a curt nod and a grin that can’t be seen. “A pleasure. So are you two…dating?” She, as always, cringes at her attempt at small talk, then grasps Alisbeth gently by the arm to pull her away and cease her unsolicited touching.

As if by karma, Koltira’s stomach is slashed open, blood spilling out onto the floor. He coughs blood into the demon hunter’s face, but remains standing, though he leans on his sword.

“Look at that!” Edrah calls. “I yelled at you and it worked! Now finish his arse off!”

“Hmm,” a disembodied voice muses. “I think not.”

The monk hunches over, completely unable to move. A blind hits Grimory, then a quick shot to the kidneys to keep him from moving. A female blood elf appears behind him and tears a slice across his back, then stands back to watch him bleed.

 


	38. Chapter 38

“Crorinu, that’s not fair!” Asheeda shouts.

The rogue chuckles and walks away to stand with Asheeda.

Grimory gives another cry of pain as more blood, warm and wet, pours down his back. His vision returns, only to be clouded by sparkles. Lips and fingers going numb, he falls into a pool of his own blood.

“ _No!_ ” Alisbeth shrieks, turning to look at the arena. She runs forward, unsure which man to hold, but unable to grip both.

Juliember growls in annoyance and throws a rejuvenation spell on Koltira before using healing touch as many times as she can in the short amount of time she has.

Anarchaia gives a shout of shock and anger. She turns to the rogue and growls. “This was a fair match!” She turns back to the arena, not bothering to stop Alisbeth. “I think that’s enough!” She follows, heart racing. “I’ve seen enough…”

The rogue shrugs apathetically.

Juliember raises her hands up. Small flecks of light rise from the ground to heal the wounds of the men. “That be cheatin’,” she growls.

Koltira groans in pain as his wounds close. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says to Alisbeth.

Asheeda purses his lips and glares at Crorinu. “That really wasn’t fair.”

Xrla steps forward. “I can help, it’s not much.” She holds out a hand to shine a light on Koltira.

He screams out in agony. “You’re making it worse!”

Alisbeth throws her boot at the paladin. “Would you stop that, now!”

Xrla clasps her hands together. “Sorry! I didn’t know!”

Anarchaia stoops and lifts Grimory up as best she can with what little strength she has. The demon hunter groans as he regains consciousness. “I think I lost,” he mumbles, blood dripping from his nose and onto the ground.

The mage ignores the mess seeping into her clothes and looks between the two women. “You both did well,” she says in a quiet voice. “But it’s clear who the winner is…”

Alisbeth sits up, her face soaked with tears. “I don’t like this game.”

The druid kneels down, making sure the wounds of both are healed. “I be acceptin’ your choice, either way.”

“ _I_ had it well in hand until that bloody rogue came sneaking in!” Edrah stomps over to also make sure they’re healed.

Anarchaia stands and releases Grimory to see if he can stand on his own, then grunts when he falls back into her. “And you did well. I just…think the druid did a more adequate job. It’s really nothing personal. Please don’t be upset.”

Grimory looks up at the sound of Alisbeth’s sniffling and gives her a reassuring smile and thumbs-up. “I’m fine. Just dizzy.” He chuckles.

Alisbeth wipes her face. “Do we still get to do whatever I want?”

Asheeda approaches swirling two vials around. “Fresh brewed,” he says, handing one to each man.

Koltira chokes the potion down, his face pinched in disgust.

Grimory gives a weak nod. “You bet.” He blinks down at the potion and takes it, throwing it back and swallowing it down as quickly as he can. He grimaces and hands the empty vial back.

Anarchaia gives Asheeda a grateful smile. “You’ve come through for us yet again. How can I make this up to you?”

As if remembering she didn’t win, Edrah stands and frowns. “I demand a retrial!”

Koltira shakes his head. “I’m not doing that again.”

Asheeda smiles at Anarchaia. “How about drinks? All of us. ‘Nu has some really rare stuff she stole off some demons.”

“Drinks!” Alisbeth shouts in excitement.

Anarchaia sobers and releases her friend when he’s able to stand again. She smiles. “We won’t be leaving until tomorrow, so that sounds lovely.”

The monk frowns and shakes her head. “Well, I’d join you, but I’ve got to find a new group. There’s this belt on the auction house just calling my name.” She gives a wistful sigh and, though still very drunk, makes the most graceful of exits.

“And I obviously need a shower,” Grimory says, wiping blood from his face. “And after that I could use _all_ the drinks.” He turns to the monk as she leaves. “Thanks again!”

Koltira stands and wipes the blood from his mouth. “I got a room at the Filthy Animal. We can shower there and meet you in the tavern, uh…” He points at the other demon hunter, realizing he doesn’t know his name.

“Asheeda. Call me Ash.” He holds out his hand and Koltira takes it.

The paladin flips her orange and white hair over her shoulder. “Sorry for the…whatever I did to you. I actually have to go, but it was fun watching you fight!” She gives Asheeda a quick hug, then heads for the exit.

“Filthy animal,” the rogue says, picking dirt from under her nails with a dagger. “Meet you there.” She turns and leaves without waiting for any replies.

Asheeda gives his attention to Anarchaia again. “How many potions can you hold? I’ve got enough to make…” he stops to calculate in his head, “a lot. Herbs are just everywhere in Val’sharah.”

The mage narrows her eyes after the rogue, then turns to blink at Asheeda. “Oh! Uh… That’s really not necessary. Heh. Very sweet of you, though.” She waves a hand and heads for the exit slowly so the others catch the hint and follow. “I think it’d just encourage _certain people_ to be reckless if we had more of your amazing potions at the ready.”

“I’m not reckless,” Grimory grunts, following. “I just like to not care. It’s liberating.”

“It’s dangerous,” Anarchaia responds with a pointed look.

“It’s really no bother at all,” Asheeda says. “It’s these damned seeds. They’re really not good for much else.”

The druid looks down at the two death knights. “You fight well…for an elf.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “Was that a compliment or an insult?”

Juliember smirks and shrugs, then follows the others.

Koltira and Alisbeth take up the rear, her pouting. “I was going to get to do whatever I wanted.”

Koltira grabs her in a sideways hug. “Maybe you still will.”

“Why is Gatsby following me?”

“Oh, I told him I didn’t think he could handle one day watching over you like I do. He wants to prove me wrong. I hope you’re giving him hell.”

She scrunches her face in a smile. “No, but I can do better!” She runs forward to jump onto the demon hunter’s back and ride him out of the sewers.

Grimory chuckles and steps out into the dark, less crowded streets. “We can still do what you want,” he says. “I just need to get cleaned up. Did you have anything in mind?”

Alisbeth thinks, one side of her face scrunched up. “Uhh…” She shrugs and gives him an innocent smile. “I’ll tell you when I think of something.”

Anarchaia gives Asheeda a warm smile. “If you insist, I can carry many since I just store everything in my room. No pack space needed.”

“They won’t be needing potions with me around,” Juliember says with a smile. “But I’m sure you have other motives for being so kind to the lady.” She winks at Asheeda.

The demon hunter blushes and looks straight forward. “I’m just being friendly, is all.”

“He doesn’t even know what I look like,” Anarchaia says with an embarrassed chuckle when they turn into the tavern. She reaches up to touch her mask, then frowns when she feels it’s damp. She pulls her hand away to find more of Grimory’s blood. “Oh, right. Uh. You guys get acquainted. I’ll be right back.” She makes for the staircase to the loft and showers.

Grimory sets Alisbeth down and shrugs. “Fair enough. Just let me know.” He glances down at himself and gives an airy laugh. “Hey barkeep. How many showers in this place?”

“One,” the goblin grunts, not looking up from his polishing.

Grimory purses his lips. “Guess I’m waiting. Thanks, Ana.”

“You could always join her,” Alisbeth says with a wink. “Or I could.” Her eyes light up. “Or we both could! _That’s what I wanna do!_ ” She grabs Grimory’s hand to drag him to the staircase.

“Alisb—” _You’re not in charge of her today. Grimory will see reason and say no._ Koltira purses his lips, unsure if he should stay with the new healer or run after the others to make sure they don’t barge in on Anarchaia.

The druid narrows her eyes. “What sort of insanity did I just get myself into?”

Koltira gives a nervous chuckle. “Alisbeth is just excitable, that’s all.”

Grimory’s ears pull back and he quickly scoops Alisbeth into his arms, holding her tightly around the waist. “How about we wait until she’s done and you and I can go?” He says in a low tone, half-joking. “Or we can wait patiently and I’ll buy you a drink.” He pauses. “A weak drink.”

Alisbeth flails. “But I want to see how pretty she is! Why don’t you want to go with me? What’s wrong with a group shower?”

Juliember and Koltira sit, the druid eyeing both death knights. “Is she your mate or his?”

“Mine,” Koltira says.

“But he handles her?”

“It’s just for twenty-four hours. It’s a long story.” He orders a drink from the troll who comes by, she smiles and turns to Juliember.

“I will just have water, please.”

“Ana doesn’t want to show what she looks like to anyone. You know that.” Grimory sets Alisbeth on a stool. “You don’t want to hurt her feelings, do you?”

“You said, ‘anything I want’, Gumbo. You promised. What if all I have to do is ask nicely and she’ll let me in? You know I bet she’d rather have me in there than you. Maybe probably. Oh! Kolty! You could get her to open the door, right? You’re friends!”

Koltira’s nerves jolt, though externally he only clenches his jaw. “Listen to Grimory.”

“I’m sure he could,” Grimory mumbles, sitting beside her. “You want that drink or not? Offer’s fading…”

“Fine. Gimme that drink.” Alisbeth pouts.

“Don’t worry, it doesn’t count toward your free request.” He hails a barmaid and places an order for mead, then turns to the troll. “So…I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Grimory.”

“Juliember,” she says simply.

The demon hunter narrows his eyes. “Right. Well. Pleasure.”

“I’m Ash,” Asheeda says to the druid. “I’m not part of this, but I do know Grimory and Anarchaia.”

The druid smiles. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ash.”

The rogue appears at the table as though she’d been there the whole time, her arms filled with roughly made red bottles. “Crorinu.” She drops the bottles onto the table and hands one to each person. She hooks her foot in the leg of a stool someone else is using, dumps them out of it, and takes a seat with her own red bottle.

“Hey I was—”

She stands and kicks him in the side of the head. “Shut up.” The rogue returns to her seat. She stares at Grimory as she swallows down some drink. “How’s your back?”

Grimory eyes the bottle set before him and gently pushes it away. He gives the rogue a sarcastic smile. “Fine, thanks for asking. You’re too kind.”

Asheeda pulls the cork of his bottle and swallows as much as he can, the hoots as tears come to his eyes. “Oh, gods, this stuff is the best! It’s like drinking fire!”

Alisbeth perks. “Like a Dalapeño?”

“Hotter.” He nudges a bottle closer to her.

Alisbeth doesn’t wait. She pulls the cork and starts to chug.

Grimory’s eyes widen slightly as he watches Alisbeth down her drink. “Uh…I did say _weak_.”

Anarchaia takes up an empty seat at the table, her mask clean and her robes left upstairs. She smiles tiredly at the group. “So Ash. How was Val’sharah? Haven’t been there yet, myself. I hear it’s nice.”

Asheeda smiles and leans in to quietly tell the mage all about the green forest and the druids there.

Alisbeth doesn’t stop drinking as she shoves another bottle at Anarchaia. She pulls the bottle away when she’s had half. A huge smile spreads across her lips. “I can taste this! Try it Achilles! It’s amazing!” She returns to drinking.

Koltira cringes as Alisbeth goes after the drink. His first instinct is to pull it away from her. _Whatever mess she makes is Grimory’s fault—unless she kills someone. Shit._ He sips the drink and realizes the potency he tries to silently warn the demon hunter to stop Alisbeth as she reaches for another bottle.

Juliember slides her own bottle to the pile in the middle of the table.

Crorinu eyes the druid, then stares conspicuously at Alisbeth. “You, uh, all there or missing a few pieces?”

Grimory clenches his teeth and quickly scoops up the bottle before Alisbeth can grab it. “Yeah, no. One is enough, girlie.” He places them out of her reach. _I need to take a shower…but I can’t leave Alisbeth here alone._ He instead sits and drinks the bottle that had been placed before him.

Alisbeth pouts. “But I wasn’t finished.”

Anarchaia takes a small sip of her own, then immediately throws her head to the side to cough. “Oh my gods,” she chokes. “What is this?”

Crorinu laughs low.

Asheeda barks one laugh and pats Anarchaia on the back. “We call it Inferno Punch.”

The rogue gives a conniving and somewhat pompous smile. “I steal it off unsuspecting demons in Suramar.”

Koltira sets his drink down. “Oh, look, the shower is free. Don’t mind if I do.”

Grimory glowers at the death knight from across the table. “ _Have fun,_ ” he sneers and takes a large pull from his bottle.

“Oh, yes,” Koltira says, “I’m going to have so much fun. Alone. Nothing to worry about.” He disappears up the stairs.

Anarchaia takes in a breath, a hand over her chest. “An apt name.” She shudders. “So, what brings you all to Dalaran?”

Alisbeth frowns, finally understanding what the rogue had said about her and what Grimory and Koltira were talking about. It was about her. _I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy. **Yes you are.** Shh! No I’m not! **They’re looking at you. All those eyes. Looking, looking. They think you’re crazy, Redblade.**_ She presses her fists into her temples. **_They’re laughing at you._** _No! They’re my friends! **No they’re not. They only stick around because you entertain them. Any moment they’ll all leave.**_ “I’m _not_ crazy!” Alisbeth shrieks as she stands. She throws a bottle at the rogue, pushes Grimory out of the way, and runs for the exit of the tavern.

Grimory jumps at Alisbeth’s outburst and grits his fangs as she runs out the door. “ _Ali!_ ” he stands with enough force to knock his stool over and immediately follows. “Ali, wait!”

The rogue dodges the bottle and glares as Alisbeth leaves. “That one needs locked up.”

Juliember sips her water with all the calm in the world. “She seems pleasant.” She smiles at Anarchaia. “I don’t think I thanked you for the invitation to join your little…circus. I see this could be fun.”

Anarchaia swallows and reaches for her drink again. “Circus. Yes. Good word.” She takes another drink and forces it down, then turns to the rogue. “She’s a sweet girl, really. She’s…gone through some stuff. You shouldn’t judge others so easily.”

“Don’t be judging a book by its cover,” Juliember says.

Crorinu scoffs. “If the outside is covered in bat shit, then it’s safe to assume there’s some inside.”

Asheeda scowls at the rogue. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“Being a bitch. Stop it.”

Anarchaia scowls. “There are many books with bland, unimpressive covers that have long, beautifully written stories inside.”

Crorinu opens her mouth to spit a snide comment at the mage, but Asheeda clears his throat. He leans on an elbow, the Inferno Punch already blushing in his cheeks. “Alright, since it’s just us girls now, I think we can behave.”

The rogue rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “ _Fine_.”

The druid chuckles at him. “I’m not used to an elf calling himself a girl before I do.” She turns her sights on Anarchaia. “Tell me of the Halls. What sort of trials be residing there?”

Anarchaia takes another small sip of her drink and pauses. “I…don’t know, actually. I just assumed they’d be difficult since the first task was.”

“Mmm,” the troll hums. “Tell me about that one.”

“He wanted us to reprimand Helya, another god. We had to go down into a place called Helheim. It was…very scary. We were all threatened by madness.” The mage swallows and taps her fingers against the bottle, trying to remember how it felt to feel. “We failed, but escaped.”

“Madness be a tough one,” Juliember says.

“Like, mad how?” Crorinu asks. “Like that raving—”

Asheeda clears his throat.

“Your, uh, friend?”

Anarchaia gives a sort of smile, the alcohol already creeping into her head. “Well, Grim attacked me—which he’d never do. I was…rather rude. Koltira turned into a fool, really. Alisbeth…” She pauses. “It was just unpleasant. I refuse to go back.”

“I can’t imagine what sort of horror she became,” Crorinu says, then takes a drink.

“Probably something close to you,” Juliember says.

“Excuse me, _what_?” The rogue stands and draws her daggers. “Come at me, club-foot!”

Juliember laughs. “You’re a waste of my time.” She flicks her fingers, a torrent of wind and leaves blows into the rogue, knocking her across the tavern.

Koltira reaches the bottom of the stairs in time to see the blood elf go flying. He takes a seat by Anarchaia and leans in. “What’s going on down here?” The close proximity stirs awkward memories and he leans away.

Anarchaia fidgets and takes another drink. “They…don’t seem to like one another. Heh.” She clears her throat as the alcohol burns down it.

An armor-clad Deathguard bursts into the tavern at the sound of a ruckus, his axe drawn and ready. “ _What’s going on in here?!_ ” He points at the druid with his weapon. “You there! Cut that shit out!” he hisses.

Juliember raises her hands innocently. “I was just defending myself. The _shit_ is across the room. Needs to be flushed back into the sewers.”

The Forsaken man narrows his glowing yellow eyes inside his helm. “Don’t do it again,” he growls, reaching to mount his axe on his back again while turning to leave.

Anarchaia stifles a chuckle into her fist.

~ * ~

Alisbeth runs to Krasus Landing and shoves her fistful of money at Aludane. “I want to go to Lothlorien.”

“Lorlathil?”

“Yes, that. Now!” She shoves her gold into his hand and he helps her onto a wyvern.

“This is more than—”

“Keep it!” she shouts as the wyvern takes off.

Grimory growls and runs off the landing, spreading his wings and following as closely as possible, but the wyvern is faster. “Where are you going?” He calls, his eyes watering from the cold air.

Alisbeth turns to frown at Grimory. “It’s okay, you don’t have to lie anymore.” She turns back around, her own eyes stinging from the wind and anger and betrayal. **_That’s right, Redblade. Everyone will be better off this way._** “Shh,” she whispers to herself, “they’ll think I’m crazy if you keep talking like that.”

“Lie about _what_?” he responds, wings flapping desperately to catch up.

“Don’t turn around,” Alisbeth whispers to herself, covering her ears to Grimory’s shouts.

He growls when he gets no reply. “I’m going to follow you until we talk,” he yells.

Alisbeth lands in Lorlathil and looks around. She deflates, realizing she didn’t have the desire to be there anymore, and goes to a gazebo beside a stream.

“I saw her face,” a woman says in a scratchy voice.

“Well I think you’re wrong,” a man with a low, bored tone says.

A tap urges Alisbeth’s gaze over her shoulder to two robed figures.

Grimory lands not long after Alisbeth, but takes a moment to catch his breath, his back aching from the journey. He takes note of the direction the woman had run off in and follows.

“See?” The female voice says.

“Oh…” the man’s voice rises in interest. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

“We’re so sorry, by the way. But we did learn so much…”

Alisbeth covers her mouth and presses a hand to her lower belly. **_Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!_** _RUN!_ She screams and launches herself from the stump stool, skittering backward into the stream as her cries tear through the air and tears stream from her eyes. The two back away and vanish into the dark night.

Grimory’s ears perk at the sound of Alisbeth’s scream. He sprints to her location despite already being winded. Finding her in the creek, he wades into the shallow water to retrieve her, a hand outstretched. “Ali! Are you okay? What happened?!”

Alisbeth scrambles away from the demon hunter. “No! No! Please! No more, please! It hurts so much! Spare us, please. Just let us go!”

The Illidari’s eyes widen slightly and he grabs her by the leg, pulling her toward him and dodging her flailing free leg. “Ali, it’s okay! It’s me! I’m not going to hurt you!”

As he grabs her, Alisbeth throws her head back and screams as though she’s being tortured. _Run. Run. Run. **KILL!**_ She reaches out her hands, fingers bent like claws, and slashes at the demon hunter’s face. “She’s not an abomination!”

Grimory hisses as his face is slashed open and fresh blood mixes with the old but he does not let go. “ _Ali, stop!_ Snap out of it! I’m here to help!”

Alisbeth crumples against him and screams her cries into his chest. “I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t save her.”

Grimory blinks down at the woman before wrapping his arms around her. “It’s okay,” he says quietly, doing his best to be comforting and not say anything offensive. “Who couldn’t you save?”

Alisbeth gasps to calm herself, though it doesn’t work. “We didn’t get to name her…” She presses the heel of her palm into an eye. “Maybe it was a boy, but I wanted a girl.”

Grimory pauses as the realization hits him. He pulls her closer, a hand cradling the back of her head. “Ali, I’m…” He stops himself, biting his lip and knowing there’s nothing he can say to make her feel better, to make her forget. He instead tightens his hold as they sit there together in the cold stream.

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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The tavern inhabitants begin to dwindle as the night goes on. The rogue had long since left, her pride battered and left in the corner of the tavern. Koltira, ears warm and cheeks pink from the inferno punch, smiles over at Juliember as she finishes a tale from her own travels. The demon hunter purses his lips.

“I wish I had epic stories like that. The only thing I have is my herbal research, which is boring to everyone else. Oh, and the change. That was…different. But I like this” Asheeda motions at his own body.

Anarchaia smacks a hand on the table, having long since finished her drink and nursing another. “ _I_ find it interesting!” she chirps, then falters. “Yeah, and what’s that all about? Do tell.” Her pen and parchment appear behind her, but the quill seems to laze around the paper, the handwriting less legible than it normally would be. “Did it hurt?” She leans forward on an elbow and smiles, overly excited for the information.

Asheeda laughs. “I slept through it with a potion. Went to sleep as a woman, woke up as a man. My hair was still long so I cut it all off.” He smiles at Anarchaia, excited to be the subject of research. “Want to see what I used to look like?”

“Fascinating.” The mage’s eyes brighten and she nods emphatically. “Please!”

Asheeda slips a potion from his satchel and smiles, then swallows it down. Smoke billows around him and when it clears a female demon hunter with curled horns, cracked red skin, and pearlescent white hair to her jaw sits in his place. He puts a small leather harness around his chest to conceal his new breasts and smiles. “I’ll admit, I miss the funbags.” He squishes the breasts together a few times within the skimpy leather confines.

Koltira looks away, entertained but still uncomfortable.

“You are a pretty woman,” Juliember says.

“Aww, you’re too kind.”

Anarchaia giggles. “Must be nice.” She reaches up to her own chest and frowns, visibly disappointed. “Why did you decide to change?” she asks, returning to drawing circles on the table with a finger and smiling.

Asheeda’s eyes widen. “Why _wouldn’t_ I? I mean, did you _see_ that paladin? And I don’t have to wear shirts! Just grab a pair of pants and go. Plus it’s just…way more comfortable.”

Anarchaia blinks and tilts her head. “You can’t be with her as a woman?” She chuckles. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people who wouldn’t care if you wore a shirt or not.” She finishes her bottle. “But the comfort I understand.”

“It’s harder to find women interested in other women,” Asheeda shrugs.

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “Not trying to offend anyone, but it _is_ strange to me.” He sips at an inferno punch. “I am also very drunk, so don’t take anything I say seriously. I haven’t been this drunk since…” He purses his lips, his eyes flit to Anarchaia, then away. “It’s only been a day, but all the same. Feels like an eternity.”

“I like women,” Anarchaia says pointedly. “And I like men. Though…you’re right. I haven’t met many others who feel similarly.” She glances over at Koltira, catching his brief gaze, then smiles and lowers an eyebrow. “Didn’t take you for the judgmental type.”

“I’m not judging!” The death knight sits up defensively. “I’m just… What do people call you? How often do you drink a potion to go back to how you were? And also, can I have one of those?” A silly smirk pulls at the corner of his lips.

In a puff of smoke, the demon hunter is back to being male. He laughs. “First, it’s okay to be curious, I’m not mad. Second, I like to be called Ash, but my full name is Asheeda Lamb—please no sheep jokes. Third, it’s just a party trick to freak people out. Finally, yes, I have a few to spare.” He hands Koltira three vials of the tincture.

Anarchaia gives a small laugh. “I can make _ewe_ a lamb if you’d like.” She wiggles her fingers menacingly, then stops. “Ugh. Master is wearing off on me.” She eyes the death knight beside her warily. “What do you have planned? Something diabolical?”

He chuckles. “I just think it could be fun, that’s all.” Thoughts he hadn’t planned enter his mind and he turns away to hide the blush creeping up his neck as he sets the vials aside.

Asheeda smiles. “I’m not even going to ask. But you should know they last about five minutes and taste like fish…and you might be a bit sore afterward.”

Juliember stands abruptly. “I’ll be retiring for the evening. I’ll be seeing you all in the morning.” She turns a smirk on Asheeda. “It was nice meeting you, _little girl_.” They both laugh.

Anarchaia straightens and gives an enthusiastic wave to the troll. “Good night! Thanks so much for helping us out again! We really appreciate it.” She looks back at Asheeda and smiles. “I can do that stuff without a potion.” Memories strike her and her smile turns to a grimace. “It takes a lot of concentration though.”

“You can turn into a man? Without a potion?” Asheeda’s eyes light up. “Show me!”

The mage blinks. “O-Oh! Okay. Uh…who?”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘who’?”

“It has to be someone I’ve seen or know. Sometimes illustrations work, too. I can’t just…create someone.”

The demon hunter blinks. “Oh. The potions actually show you how _you_ would look as the other gender. But, um… Pick someone you find attractive.” He gives her a toothy grin.

The mage’s shoulders give a slight jerk and her eyes quickly flick to the man beside her without her thinking. “Uh…” she stammers, then stands. Her body sways a bit from the alcohol, but she manages to wave a hand. Violet smoke encases her body—when it clears, an exact replica of Asheeda stands in her place. She places her hands on her hips and smiles nervously. “Like this?” _Oh gods, please don’t be offended…_

The demon hunter laughs and slaps a thigh. “I had no idea you felt that way.” He gives her a sly wink.

A jolt of jealousy shoots through Koltira and he turns away from the two, deciding that drinking more is a good idea. _You have no right to be jealous or possessive, you idiot. Stop it._

Anarchaia waves a hand, thinking quickly. “I’m just trying to flatter you. Heh.” Another vortex of smoke changes her back and she sits again. She clears her throat. “So, alchemy. What got you into that?” She takes a drink and nervously glances at the man beside her, searching for signs of hurt feelings. “Is it difficult?”

“I like to explore and discover things. You could say science is my passion.” He stifles a yawn. “What made you choose to be an adventurer?”

“I see. And I… didn’t really choose it. I do whatever Master asks of me.” She sobers some, but smiles. “But I don’t regret it.” She hesitates. “I don’t regret any of it. I’m glad I’ve met the friends I have.”

Koltira’s ears perk. _She’s just talking about the journey._

Asheeda yawns again. “So sorry. I’m a bit worn out. Why does your master have you doing all of this?”

“No worries,” the mage responds with another wave of her hand. “Please, don’t stay awake on my account. My stories would simply put you to sleep anyway. Heh.”

With another yawn and a fist rubbing his eye, Asheeda stands. “Well, now that I have your permission…” He chuckles and gives her a friendly wave.

~ * ~

The rain patters down around them. Grimory looks out over the forest from the safety of the gazebo, though the two are already soaked. He can’t help glancing over at her multiple times, each time building up the strength to say something, but ultimately saying nothing.

Alisbeth holds onto the demon hunter’s hand, unable to let go for fear she’ll be lost in the nightmare again. For the first time in a long time, her mind is quiet.

“Do you want to go back soon? Or would you rather stay here a little longer?” He gifts her hand a squeeze and smiles down at her. “You still have that request, you know.”

Alisbeth shakes her head. “They don’t want me there.” She keeps her eyes on the forest, looking for moving shadows. Determined, this time, to kill the two when they resurface.

His smile fades and his brow furrows upward in concern. “Ali, that’s not true. You’re our friend. Ana likes you, and obviously Koltira does, too. Why would you think they don’t?”

Alisbeth bites down and turns to look away from him, sure that he must be lying. After a moment she says, “Why are you following me? It’s because he wanted me out of his hair, isn’t it? He’d rather spend time with your mage friend.”

Grimory pauses, the strange behavior of the two the night prior fresh in his mind. He grits his teeth. “He…bet me that I couldn’t handle you for a day,” he confesses. “But at this point I’m not really concerned with winning that bet.” He swallows and looks down at her. “I’m terrible. You can slap me if you like.”

“Am I really that awful?” She leans her head to his shoulder. “I don’t think I am.”

The Illidari shakes his head, surprised she’s not angry. “I don’t think you are. Especially knowing what I do now.” He brings a gentle hand up to pet her hair. “I think you’re misunderstood.”

She sniffs and rubs at her nose as it runs just a little. “Will you help me kill them?”

He blinks down at her then gives a small laugh. “You know I will.”

“I shouldn’t have run. I should have killed them.” She purses her lips and goes silent for a long time. “I don’t want to go back. But you need to sleep, right? And…I have to be good while you’re asleep. Koltira wants me to give you hell, though. What do you want?”

Grimory sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I want you to do what you want…and be happy.” He shrugs and gives a sad smile. “And if that means me losing a bet, then so be it.”

“What if what I want is for _you_ to be happy?”

Grimory’s smile quickly fades again. His jaw tightens. _No one’s ever asked me that before._ “I…” He clears his throat and looks away, color seeping into his cheeks. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

Alisbeth giggles. “That’s a stupid answer.” She pokes his cheek. “What do you want to do?”

He turns and smiles again, his cheek crowding his eye when her finger pushes against it. “Stay here with you.”

She smiles. “Then I guess we’re staying here.” She blinks into the night and sighs. “Tell me a story.”

The demon hunter chuckles and looks out over the land beyond the confines of the gazebo as well. “When I was young, my cousin Therys and I fancied ourselves bowmen. We had small short bows and blunted arrows that we used to shoot bottles with. One day we found his father’s short bow…with _real_ arrows in a quiver nearby.” He laughs. “It took so much strength to draw that string. In the end, Therys couldn’t hold it very long. Loosed it before he could even turn towards the target. Hit me in the ass.”

Alisbeth holds back her laugh. “That must have been awful.”

He shrugs and laughs. “I think I’d have rather had an arrow in my ass than the whooping he got for it.”

“Tell me another.” She smiles at him.

He smiles. “Nuh uh. Your turn.”

“After my parents died and I went to live with the paladins, there was this boy. He was an idiot and I let him know it every chance I got. I was…sixty and he was just seventeen.” She laughs. “I got so mad I threw my sword at him. Took his ear clean off. They were able to heal him, of course.” Her smile fades. “When I sought revenge on Thassarian, Esmond was the only paladin on my side. He said it was _because_ of my tenacity. We didn’t care about Horde or Alliance. He was my friend…right up until Thassarian killed him.” She rubs at her nose and squints at the water. “It was my fault.”

Grimory sobers and squeezes her hand again. “You know. Ninety-nine percent of the time, when people blame themselves for something, it’s not actually their fault.”

“It’s because I couldn’t fight. We’d found Thassarian but…that’s when I discovered Koltira. We tried to run, but Esmond fell. Koltira tried to kill me, but I was able to escape. He chased me down and tried to kill me again. My horse saved my life. When I got back to my camp the death knights had slain my small troop. Those paladins were only out there because of me.” She swallows. “How could I think myself worthy of the Light after that?” She smiles. “Tell me another story.”

He frowns and looks away, wanting to oblige her wish, to distract her from her story, from sadness. But he shrugs. “I…don’t have a lot of happy stories, if I’m being honest. My real parents abandoned me in the woods. Spent most of my time wishing I was something greater than myself. I joined the Illidari because I was so sick of rolling hills, trees, and horses. Instead, I saw friends and comrades torn apart by demons and nothing but the green haze of a crystal for ten years.” He gives another shrug. “You guys and Ana are the most exciting things that have happened to me since then.”

Alisbeth tucks herself closer and wraps a hug around him. “I don’t have many happy stories, either. You’re the only friends I’ve ever had.”

Grimory drapes an arm across her shoulders and sighs. “Well, I’m glad we are.” The corners of his mouth tighten into a small frown. “We should probably go back. We have stuff to do tomorrow.”

“If you say so.” She giggles again. “If it makes you _happy_.”

Grimory stands and stretches, holding out a hand. “It doesn’t, but duty calls.”

Alisbeth makes a face. “If you insist.”

The demon hunter laughs and raises his hands, making back for the flight master. “Hey, if you want to stay here, I’m not going to stop you.”

She scurries to walk with him. “But then you’ll lose the bet!”

“Oh well,” he says. “You aren’t something to bet over.” He snorts. “As much as I’d like to see the defeat in pretty boy’s face.”

“But you _made_ the bet. Don’t lose because you pity me. What were the terms?” She wraps her arms around one of his and holds it as she walks beside him, a slight skip in her step.

He gives her a sideways glance, eyebrows raised. “It’s not because I _pity_ you. It’s just wrong to do.” _Not that that’s ever stopped me._ “But the terms were just that I had to keep you in line for twenty-four hours. Like he normally would.”

“Okay. What do you each win?”

“Bragging rights and ale.” He pays the flight master and holds out a hand to help Alisbeth onto a brightly colored hippogryph. “Things I can live without.”

Alisbeth takes his hand and lets him assist her up. “I want you both to win. Can you both win?”

He laughs. “On this particular bet? I don’t think so. It’s okay, though. Stop worrying about it.” He climbs on behind her in the saddle and the beast takes off into the sky with little effort.

Alisbeth leans back into his warmth and smiles. “I’m gonna tell Kolty to call it off.”

Grimory resists the urge to wrap his arms around her. “No,” he groans. “Then he’ll know I told you.”

Alisbeth chews on her bottom lip. “Just trust me, okay?” She reaches her arms up and gently grabs Grimory by the horns to set his head on the top of hers so she can run her palms along the curl of them. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Grimory smiles and gives in, wrapping his arms around her waist. “If you say so. Like I said, I’m not stopping you from doing anything anymore.”

“You’re warm,” Alisbeth sighs, sinking deeper into him and closing her eyes against the biting wind.

Grimory chuckles again. “Well I’m not dead, so…”

“I like that. I miss that.” Alisbeth threads her fingers together behind his neck.

Grimory sobers as the cold winds hit his face, his heart fluttering behind her head. _This is bad._


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/  
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

Anarchaia sighs into her mug of spiked coffee, desperately searching for something to clear the awkward air. “So…a farstrider, right? It shows. You…shoot darts petty well.” _Ugh. Shut up, Ana._

Koltira smirks. “Arrows are different from darts, I’ll admit. Have you ever shot a bow?” _Why are we talking about this when those lips could be—no._

The mage shakes her head. “N— Well…once. It didn’t end well. Heh.” She flushes and hides her face in her mug again. “I…don’t have very strong arms. Which is why I’m better suit— _hic!_ —suited for darts.”

“It’s not about strength. You need a proper bow with the proper weight distribution for you.” _She doesn’t care about that shit._ He clears his throat. “I can show you…”

Anarchaia perks and smiles, setting her mug down. “You can? I-I would like that. There’s a range behind the citadel, actually.”

“As long as they have rentals,” Koltira laughs. “I lost my bow in Silvermoon. Haven’t picked one up since.” He doesn’t wait for an invitation and picks Anarchaia up by the hand, then wraps the same hand through his elbow. Working his hardest to stay upright, he leads the mage from the tavern.

Anarchaia flushes and smiles, doing her best to support him despite being just as drunk. “I can take pretty much anything I want here. Unless I intend to keep it. Then I have to pay. Heh,” she chuckles. “Oh, do you still have my token?” She leads him through the quiet streets outside, periodically glancing up at him without turning her head.

“I do.” He pulls the token from his pocket and stares at it. “What on Azeroth is it?”

The mage smiles and takes it from him. “My I.D.” A spark of energy flies from the coin and from the eye in the center emerges an image of Anarchaia from the waist up, hands raised in victory signs and tongue sticking through smiling lips. “You didn’t use it? Hm. Shame.” The hologram dissipates and she pockets the token. “Regardless, there’re always cheap bows just sit— _hic!_ —sitting around back there.”

“Flattering image,” he laughs. “Careful,” he says, helping her down the rubble of a destroyed wall. “Next time you hand me a fancy token, tell me what it is before you disappear on me.”

“Yeah. Sorry about tha— _at!_ ” She misses a step she intended to take, her drunken state causing a lack of coordination, and falls against him. She flushes and jumps away, brushing herself off. “Sorry! Sorry…”

Koltira clears his throat, thankful she leapt away before he could hold onto her a little longer. “It’s fine, just…watch your footing.” He pauses and smirks. “Or don’t. Whatever you want.” He retrieves a bow from a hook and sets it in the mage’s hands. “Pull the string.”

Anarchaia swallows and takes up the weapon. “Uh, yeah. Okay.” She lifts the bow and pulls on the string. Her thin, frail arms shake as she does so, but she manages to draw it as far as it will allow. “Like…this…?” she says, straining to hold on.

Koltira sets his hands over hers and forces the string back into original position. “You’re struggling too much with it. Don’t force it back, it should be hard, but also easy.” He takes the bow from her hands and finds a smaller one. He pulls the string to test its tautness. “Try this one.”

The mage narrows her eyes. “Hard but easy.” She takes the new bow and draws it back with less effort, but still enough to make her eke out a noise of strain. “Better,” she says with a smile.

He takes the bow from her again and pulls the loop from one end, shows her another loop, which he runs through the other, then restrings the bow, giving it an extra inch. “This is a beginner’s bow. The pull is adjustable.” He hands it back to her, then takes a compact hunter’s bow from the rack and tests it. “Arrows?” He asks the man watching the weapons.

“Five silver per arrow, up front, no refunds for unshot arrows.”

Koltira turns to Anarchaia. “You’re up.”

Anarchaia holds out the token and gives a smile that matches the one in the hologram. “Yeah, I know who you are, _Anarchaia_ ,” the man grunts. “I also know how you handle a bow. Five silver per arrow.”

The mage deflates and pulls a gold piece from her front pocket, drunkenly tossing it in his direction and taking a bundle of twenty. She sticks her tongue out at the man and shoves each arrow in the ground beside her. She takes one and nocks it, looking down the shaft at the battered target on the other end of the range. When loosed, the arrow sails over the target and off the edge of the floating island altogether. She gives a groan of disappointment.

Koltira drops his own gold down and borrows two quivers. He shoves her arrows into one and reaches around the mage to secure it at her hip. “First of all, don’t leave your arrows in the dirt. They’ll rust, depending on the material used for the heads. Second, your form is absolutely awful.” He secures his own quiver and withdraws an arrow. “Watch my form.” Koltira nocks the arrow and pulls back on the string, pausing for a moment to gauge the wind tangling gently through his hair. He adjusts his angle, breathes out, and looses it. The arrow hits just shy of the bullseye and he frowns. “I might be a little drunk. We’ll call it a bullseye.”

Anarchaia gazes at the man before her for a long while, taking in his strength and prowess with the bow, his hair, his glowing blue eyes. The sound of the arrow striking the target snaps her back and she shakes her head. _Oh no! I wasn’t paying attention!_ “Auhm…” She gives a sheepish smile. “I-I’ll try.” She hesitates before reaching into the quiver and nocking another arrow. She pulls it back to her ear and stops. “Like this?”

Koltira slips the bow over his shoulder and stands behind Anarchaia, her back pressed to his chest. He takes a moment to steel himself as her perfume wafts up to him. His hands smooth over her arms, adjusting her positioning. He rests his hands over hers to make sure they are gripping correctly. Next he runs his hands down her sides, making small adjustments. “Move your feet like this.” He taps her feet with his toes. “Plant your feet. Center your weight.” He sets a hand on her hip and the other back up on her ribs under her bust, making minor adjustments.

The undead girl cannot help but stiffen as his hands run over her. Her jaw clenches and she holds her breath when his hair flutters against her cheek as it had done that night. A shaky breath escapes her nostrils. “O-okay.” _Oh gods. I could stand like this forever. It’d be so easy to just turn and… What? No! What is wrong with you?!_ Her fingers stay with the arrow and again she hesitates.

Koltira places his hands back onto hers, gritting his jaw against the proximity. He leans to place his cheek on hers to look down the arrow’s shaft. “Feel the wind? It’ll pull the arrow, so you adjust.” He inches her angle a little left. “Breathe in.” He breathes in as well, her perfume surrounds him and stirs his memories yet again. “Now breathe out as you let go.” He loosens his grasp on her hand on the arrow to let her release it.

Following the instructions she’s given closely, Anarchaia inhales. She holds it for a moment before exhaling and releasing the arrow simultaneously. The force of the string sends a shockwave against her cheek and she flinches at the sound of the _thwok!_. The arrow lands near Koltira’s, but still a distance from the center. She smiles and turns to look up at him, excitement clear in what little can be seen of her face. “Good?”

“Fantastic!” He hugs her excitedly, then releases her swiftly when the urge to kiss her as congratulations rises. “Would you like to try again?”

The mage flushes and chortles, then clears her throat into a fist, glancing down the range at the arrows. “Well. I didn’t get a bullseye. So yes.” She chuckles and nocks another, pulling it back and doing her best to remember the stance he’d shown her. “Feet apart, back straight…?”

Koltira rests his hands on hers and fixes that position, then runs his hands up her arms and down her sides, leaving one to rest on her hip as he returns the other to her ribs and adjusts her posture the littlest bit. “Good…”

Anarchaia inhales slowly. She swallows and turns her head ever so slightly. _Just do it. You know you want to._ She bites her lip and turns more toward Koltira at her shoulder.

“Having fun?” Grimory leans against a broken pillar above the range, arms folded and eyes glowing in the lamplight above.

Anarchaia jumps at his voice, loosing the arrow on accident. It sails over the edge again. “G-Grim!” she chirps.

Koltira steps back and drops his hands, doing his best to remain calm. “How’s the whole staying up to watch Ali thing going?” He strains to see behind the demon hunter. “Where is she?”

The mage lowers her bow and fidgets, saying nothing.

“I’ve decided to let her do whatever she wants,” he responds, not moving from his spot. “She’s somewhere in the shopping district, I think.”

Koltira purses his lips in frustration. “You just let her run amok? Are you serious?”

He shrugs carelessly. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll be fine.”

The death knight growls. “Why would you just leave her? She’s not _allowed_ in the city without someone there! She’s dangerous, don’t you get that?” He removes the bow and sets it on the counter with the quiver.

“She’s fine,” he assures with a smile. “Occupied.” His smile fades. “Like you two.”

“He was showing me how to loose,” Anarchaia says, setting her bow aside as well, swallowing nervously. “Nothing more.”

“Right,” the demon hunter responds, turning to walk down the dimly lit street, back toward the tavern.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Koltira snaps, storming after the other man. “I was correcting her posture.” The death knight stumbles up the rubble, trying to look more sober than he is.

“Nothing,” Grimory replies pointedly, not turning around. He places his thumbs behind his belt. “I’m certain you were. Not sure what you’re so upset about. In fact, one would dare say you’re protesting too much.”

Koltira scoffs. “I think I protest just about enough, given what you’re insinuating.” He grabs Grimory by the shoulder. “You have no right to project your own inappropriate actions onto me.” _Shutting up might actually be a good idea._

Grimory’s eyes light in annoyance. The flames narrow. “At least I admit to my _inappropriate actions. And_ I’m not married.”

“Ana and I are only friends,” Koltira insists. “I know that’s a strange concept to grasp, but it’s true. I have no interest in…” He finds he can’t say it out loud, and so rubs a hand over his mouth. He sighs and presses his palm to his forehead. “I’m too drunk for this nonsense.”

Grimory straightens his back and gives a _hmph!_ of triumph. “Yeah. Thought so.” He whirls back around and continues on his trek to the inn. “Enjoy your drunken night archery, Deathweaver.”

Koltira scoffs and stomps back to the range.

Anarchaia sits idly on the worn wooden bench against the stone wall of the citadel. She fidgets with her fingers and glances up, then scrambles to her feet. “Is everything okay?” she asks in a small voice.

Frustration knots at Koltira until he can take no more. He grabs Anarchaia by the waist and pulls her up into and angry but passionate kiss.

A brief sound of surprise exits her throat and Anarchaia’s eyes widen. Her hands come up to his shoulders, meaning to push away but instead lingering. She sighs into his lips, then pulls away, gazing up into his face from behind her mask. Confusion and a desire for more fill her head. “…Is that a _no_?”

Koltira blinks and sets her down. “I’m…so sorry. Uh… We should…get our money’s worth out of those arrows.”

A smile creeps across her lips again, no longer trying to contain herself. “I think I’d like that.”


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

Koltira takes the stairs down to the tavern to find the druid waiting patiently with a mug of strong-brewed coffee and a sugary pastry. “Morning, Juliember.”

She grunts. “It is.” The troll takes a drink and returns to staring at the wall.

“Not a morning person?”

“Astute.” She doesn’t look at him.

He takes a seat and leans on the table to wait for the others to show up.

Grimory makes his way down the stairs from the loft, scratching at one of his sideburns and ordering his own coffee at the bar. He doesn’t look at the two and instead watches as his drink is poured.

A swirling flash of light tears through the tavern and when it clears, Anarchaia stands in its place, stretching. She pushes her hood back. “Good morning, friends.”

Grimory grunts in response, sipping his piping hot coffee.

Koltira’s jaw tenses as he holds off saying anything to Grimory. Then he stands to get closer. “Where’s Alisbeth?”

The demon hunter points to the shower room upstairs, but says nothing.

Swallowing his angry pride, Koltira clears his throat. “I want to apologize for last night. I…really overdid the inferno punch. I just want you to know that Ana and I are only friends. I love Alisbeth too much to hurt her.” _Which is why she can never know._ “I’d rather you and I stayed friends as well.”

Grimory’s eyes finally shift to Koltira’s and he gives a shrug. “Sure.” _You’re a liar, but sure._

Koltira heads upstairs to find Alisbeth. _He’s not buying it._

Anarchaia takes up a spot near Juliember. “Ready for today?”

Juliember makes a face. “If you are always this…chipper in the mornings then I’d rather you didn’t talk until I’ve finished my coffee.”

Anarchaia tilts her head at the woman and titters. “Mornings are meaningless when you don’t sleep.”

Juliember turns a tired scowl on the mage. “I _do_ sleep.”

Anarchaia blinks and sits upright. “O-Oh! I’m being inconsiderate. I’ll…go away. Sorry.” She glances across the room to Grimory at the bar and cringes. “On second thought, I’ll just stay here and be quiet.”

The druid grumbles and takes a huge drink of her coffee.

The shower door opens and Alisbeth steps out to find Koltira standing by the door. She glares at him. “Call it off.”

“What?”

“The bet. Gary says I’m not something to be bet on. Either he wins or you call off the bet.” She goes to their room to find clean clothes.

Koltira growls. “You slept with him last night, didn’t you?”

She furrows her brow. “He slept. I watched.” She smiles. “His tattoos still glow when he’s asleep!”

“But he told you about the bet.”

“ _You_ should have told me about the bet. But you didn’t!” She hits his chest with her bundle of clothes, then drops her towel and begins dressing. “We’re all supposed to be friends, right? So do what I say or I…I won’t be your friend anymore.”

The bottom lids of Koltira’s eyes raise up. “You can’t just unfriend your husband. That’s not how this works.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“It’s not a challenge.”

“It sounds like a challenge.”

“Alisbeth you can’t—”

“ _Stop telling me what I can’t do!_ ” She shrieks loud enough for the whole inn to hear.

Grimory smiles to himself as he sips his drink

Anarchaia, however, cringes at the shriek and immediately resorts to more finger fidgeting. _Not good._

“Last night I played with all the toys in the toy shop and no one stopped me or told me I was too old for them or that I couldn’t have them. The shopkeep even stayed open late for me. And I _didn’t_ get in trouble! Then I came right back here because Gerard asked me to, _nicely_.” She shoves past Koltira to go downstairs. “ _WEE!_ ” Alisbeth rides the banister down into the tavern.

Grimory tilts his head toward the stairs. “Hi again,” he says casually to Alisbeth.

“Hi!” She smiles. She turns her smile on Anarchaia. “Hi!” Then sobers at Juliember. “Hi,” she whispers.

The druid furrows her brow, then shrugs, accepting the quiet greeting.

“Bye!” she calls, waving one hand to Grimory and one to Anarchaia. She then runs out the door.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows but does not follow. “Well,” he grunts and downs the rest of his coffee. He turns to Anarchaia. “Guess we aren’t leaving just yet.”

The mage continues to toy with her fingers and sighs. “I guess not. Good thing I’m a patient person.”

Koltira goes down to the tavern with Alisbeth’s pack and his own. He searches the room, then narrows his eyes. “Where’d she go?”

“Out the door,” Grimory responds, leaning back against the bar with both elbows.

The death knight’s jaw clenches. “Why are you doing this?”

The demon hunter smiles cattily. “Didn’t we have this conversation last night?” His smile grows suspicious. “You’re not going to follow her? What if she gets in trouble?”

“Of course I’m going after her, since you clearly don’t have a responsible bone in your body. The bet is off.” He storms from the tavern, leaving their bags on the floor by the table.

“Oh it is, is it?” Grimory chuckles after him.

“Grim, I don’t know what this is all about but you’re being rather…unkind.” Anarchaia scowls at him from beneath her mask. “I’d appreciate it if you’d try harder to get along with everyone.”

“And by _everyone_ you mean _Koltira_ ,” he responds, his smile fading.

“Yes,” she admits. “You and I have talked about this. You said you would try.”

Grimory purses his lips. “I did.” He sighs through his nose. “Fine. I’m sorry.” _I’ll be nice to your boyfriend._

Going based on what she’d been doing last night, Koltira goes to the toy shop. Alisbeth is sitting on the floor tossing a zeppelin back and forth with the pink-haired gnome. Koltira kneels down beside her. “Hey, we have to get going to the Halls.”

Alisbeth frowns at the zeppelin in her hands, then tosses it to glide to the gnome again. “Okay.” She stands and dusts off her rear.

“Wait!” the gnome calls after her. She stops in the doorway and he glides the zeppelin to her. “Hold onto this for me!”

Alisbeth smiles excitedly and runs to pick the gnome up in a hug. “Thank you!”

The gnome grunts. “Please don’t pick me up.”

Alisbeth runs back to the inn ahead of Koltira and finds Grimory. “Goliath! Catch!” She sails the zeppelin to him.

The Illidari holds up a hand lazily and pulls the toy out of the air. He admires the craftsmanship and gives a hum of approval. “You buy this?” He sails it back.

She snatches the zeppelin, excitement sparkling in her eyes. “No! The gnome _gave_ it to me! Achievable, catch!”

The zeppelin sails over the mage and hits the druid in the forehead. Alisbeth purses her lips. Juliember glares at the toy, then at Alisbeth. She picks it up and Alisbeth holds her breath. The troll chuckles and tosses it back.

“That will be a fun toy to have around,” Juliember says.

Grimory barks a laugh. “Maybe we can use it in the trial. Looks pretty deadly.” He stands and stretches. “Could honestly just leave our weapons here.”

Anarchaia gives a small chuckle and stands as well. “You and I don’t even use weapons.”

“It was a joke,” the demon hunter whispers loudly past a hand.

“I need to go to the bank,” Alisbeth announces. “They have some stuff I want to bring.”

“Stuff?” Koltira questions. “What stuff?”

“Thassarian didn’t _just_ take me to get the Maw,” she says as though it’s obvious. She shoulders the axe and smiles. “That okay with you?”

The mage and demon hunter exchange glances. “Can you be back in twenty minutes?” Anarchaia says hesitantly. “I mean, we’re not necessarily in a hurry, but… it’s nice to be prompt.”

She thinks. “Two copper says I’m back in ten!” She shoves the toy at Anarchaia, grabs her pack, and runs out the door, not waiting for anyone to take her bet.

Koltira blinks after her. “She…has a bank account?”

Grimory laughs. “Don’t you share one? Being _married_ ‘n all?”

Koltira’s eyes search the room for prying ears. “Shh!” He strides to the demon hunter to whisper. “She keeps her name because it’s a _secret_. They broke me out of the prison in Undercity, the Banshee Queen hasn’t sought to take me again, but _nothing_ would stop her from taking—or killing—Alisbeth. Please, I am begging you, keep your voice down.” His eyes beg Grimory to oblige this one request.

Grimory lifts his eyebrows, taken aback by Koltira’s tone. He grits his teeth, holding back words that Anarchaia warned him about. “I’m…sorry. I’ll do my best.”

Anarchaia gives a small smile beneath her mask and sits again. _Thanks, Grim._

“I know you don’t care about her past combat and your one night, but you trying means a lot. I would rather not find her in pieces.” Koltira holds out his hand to the demon hunter. “I liked it more when we weren’t arguing. Truce?”

 _You’re wrong. I do._ He sobers and takes the death knight’s hand, giving a firm shake. “Truce.” He glances over Koltira’s shoulder at Anarchaia. _You’d better appreciate this. It’s hard._

Koltira crosses the room to sit with the other two. “Morning, Juliember. Sorry for the chaos.”

The troll chuckles. “It’s like watching a play. Half drama half comedy.”

Koltira raises an eyebrow. “I’m…sorry?”

“Don’t be. I haven’t gotten this much action since I learned how to fuck as a bat.”

Koltira coughs. “Y-you what?”

Grimory gives another laugh. “I like this woman.”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen and she turns to the troll, parchment and paper ready in an instant. “ _You can do that?!_ ”

Juliember smiles behind her tusks. “I have seven forms, it would be silly to not have fun in _all_ of them. So, yes, I can do that. And so much more.”

A woman enters the tavern, clothed head to toe in purple robes covered by ornate white plate pieces over the chest, arms, hands and shoulders, and fanning out in white blades down the skirt, some dangling from chains. She walks straight to their table and slams a purple, spiked hook into the wood. She drops a huge, heavy bag into Anarchaia’s lap.

“For all the trouble I’ve caused.”

Koltira’s eyes widen. “Alisbeth?”

The mage jumps in surprise and blinks down at the bag. Her eyes slide up to the hood. The parchment and paper disappear and she gives a nervous smile. “Uh…that’s not necessary, Ali. Heh.” _I honestly don’t deserve anything from you._ “You needn’t worry about it. Really. Truly.”

Alisbeth waves a dismissive hand. “It’s only five hundred, not like I gave you a fortune. Pocket change. Wait, should I have given you more? I can run back to the bank!”

Koltira grabs her hand before she can leave. “Where did you get all this money?”

She throws her hood back and unbuckles the white and purple helm covering her face. “It’s mine. I’ve always had it. I moved it from Silvermoon to Dalaran when you were at Agmar’s Hammer. You said this is the same Dalaran. You were right! They still have all my stuff! _Plus_ four years’ interest on my gold! Not that I needed the extra.”

Anarchaia gently places the bag on the table. “Really, though. I have no use for money. It’s very kind of you regardless.”

His mouth drops open. “How much gold do you have? What about this?” He motions at her new equipment.

“It’s mine. What? Did you think I got rid of my things when I abandoned the Light? As if! And I didn’t count the gold. I had to be back in ten minutes. And I was! Two copper for me!” She holds out her hand expectantly.

“Nice threads!” Grimory says, coming over to inspect. “They suit you. Purple is a good color.”

“Thanks!” Alisbeth grabs the bag of gold and plops it into Grimory’s hands. “Ashildir doesn’t want this. You can have it.”

Juliember stands to tower over the death knight. She smirks. “Purple is my favorite color,” she says in broken Thalassian and drops two copper into Alisbeth’s hand as the giant insect wings on her back flutter. “What say we get this side show on the road?”

Alisbeth bounces with glee at the copper and puts it in her new purple satchel she’s replaced her backpack with. She leans forward in excitement. “Someone else bet me to do something! I’ll do anything. And then I’ll be rich off your copper!”

“I bet you to say absolutely nothing for any entire five minutes,” Grimory says with a sly grin, then covers the side of his mouth, whispering to the others. “There’s no way she’ll do it.”

Alisbeth narrows her eyes at Grimory and walks into the kitchen with her helm tucked under an arm. When she returns, she’s buckling the helm back on. She lifts her hood up, slipping her ears through small holes on the sides. With a tug, she pulls the spikes of her hook from the wood and shoulders the weapon, then waits for the others.

Koltira raises his eyebrows. “You ready to go, Ali?”

She nods.

Juliember drops a palm on Grimory’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re all wrong from time to time.” She approaches Alisbeth and the death knight hooks an arm through hers, then beckons the others with a tilt of her head.

Grimory’s smirk remains. “It’s been thirty seconds.” He dumps the bag of gold into Anarchaia’s arms again and follows.

The mage sends the bag away with a sparkle of purple despite not wanting it, then stands and folds her arms, her weight on a hip. “So. You’re all just gonna walk?”

Koltira slings his pack and sword over his shoulders, then holds his hands out to display Anarchaia like a game show prize. “Guys, our chariot awaits.”

“I’m used to running,” the druid says, “or flying.”

Alisbeth drags the troll back to Anarchaia and waits, popping up on the balls of her feet, then back down.

The mage lifts her hands and energy rotates around her.

“ _No portals in my tavern!_ ” an orc woman calls from the loft.

Anarchaia cocks her head in the direction of the voice, then opens the portal anyway.

Grimory gives a hearty laugh and steps through first.

Alisbeth gives Anarchaia a thumbs up as she hops through the portal. The troll follows with a laugh. Again, Koltira finds himself as the awkward last. This time he gives her a kind smile before stepping into the portal.

Anarchaia returns the smile, but realizes too late that it’s hidden behind her mask. _Ugh, damn it._ She shoots the angry inn owner a glare and steps through as well.

Grimory instantly makes for the portal at the far end of the hall. “Let’s get this party started.”

Alisbeth runs after him, raising her hook in the air as a silent war cry. Juliember waits by the portal exit for the other two to emerge.

Anarchaia steps out and the portal closes behind her. She readjusts her robes and looks up, then jumps as she sees the other two ruining off. “W-wait!” She follows.

Grimory steps through the light-encased doorway and stops, marveling at the sight around him. Golden clouds accent tall stone pillars and red banners. Dragons made of lightning and Valkyr soar about.

“Much prettier than I was expecting,” he admits.

“ _Mmmh!_ ” Alisbeth bumps into Grimory’s back and falls to her rear.

The demon hunter whirls around and eyes the woman on the ground, pointing at her. “That counts!”

Alisbeth holds up her hands and shakes her head, making strange gestures at him, then to her mouth, then to him again.

Grimory places his hands on his hips and pulls his ears back. “It does so!”

Koltira rolls his eyes to Anarchaia. “You expected anything less from those two?”

Anarchaia gives Koltira a worn grin. “I don’t expect anything from either of them at this point.”

Koltira nods. Juliember smiles. “Are they always like that?”

“Yes,” Koltira grunts.

“And you are okay with it? The closeness?”

Koltira waves his hand, dismissing the subject. “We’d better hurry in there before they get themselves into real trouble.”

Anarchaia nods. Once inside, she calls out to the demon hunter. “Grim! Let’s get g—”

“Ah, you’ve returned!” Odyn’s voice rings through the air around them. “And have jumped in so quickly I’d hardly noticed! Don’t bother speaking—I won’t be able to hear you. The trial is simple enough: make your way through the Halls until you’ve reached the throne room. There you’ll gain your reward and the favor you seek. Good luck, champions!”

The mage narrows her eyes and waits for a long moment, then clears her throat. “Grim!” she repeats, “Let’s get going!”

The demon hunter gestures to his eyes with two fingers, then points them at Alisbeth. He turns and runs down the length of the bridge, claws extended.

Koltira holds out a hand to help Alisbeth up from the ground. “You’re really trying to win this bet, aren’t you?”

She nods, then shoulders her hook and runs after Grimory again; Koltira follows. In a second a tiger with aqua fur and light blue hair streaks past him to catch the others.

Anarchaia takes up the rear at a safe distance, hood flying back to her shoulders.

Grimory launches himself into a group of vrykul men, nails raking through them as they fight back with fierce aggression. One manages to slash open his shoulder while another sends bolts of electricity his way.

Alisbeth hooks her weapon around a vrykul’s shoulder, yanking him away from Grimory and throwing him on the ground. She uses the spikes along the outer curve of the hook to saw his head off. She holds it up in triumph, forgetting that no one can see her smiling behind her helm.

Juliember pops into her original form and throws a few quick healing spells at Grimory; they swirl around him as green mist and intangible leaves. Next, she throws a mushroom to the ground, which emits a sparkling green mist around their feet. “ _Don’t_ be starting without me. I _will_ be letting you kiss the floor.”

Koltira laughs at the druid and jumps into the fight.

“Ana told me to go!” The Illidari shouts before exhaling a billowing mass of emerald fire over the group. He breathes a sigh of relief as his wounds close and energy flows through him anew.

“Don’t blame me!” Anarchaia calls back, lifting a hand.

A swirling cloud materializes above the group. Spikes of ice rain down on their heads, shattering before hitting any of her allies, but crashing against the skulls of her foes. Those managing to dodge the hail are chilled to their core, slowing their movements and reactions.

Alisbeth reaches up to grab at the ice shards, stomping her foot when they shatter over her palms.

Grimory stops and turns to the troll when the last man falls, folding his arms and waiting a beat. “You ready? All good?”

She turns into a tiger and roars at him.

Alisbeth jumps up and down, excitedly pointing at the druid and clapping her hands.

“Let’s get a move on,” Koltira says, a bloodlust-induced grin on his face.

Grimory wiggles his fingers. “Ooh, _scary._ ” He turns and runs headlong into the next pack, narrowly avoiding a breath of lightning from a storm drake.

Anarchaia gives a hesitant look of disgust at the decapitated man before following.

Koltira runs into the pack, screaming and sword swinging, realizing how much he’d needed a good fight like this.

Alisbeth, again, finds a creative way to use her hook. She cuts a slit into the man’s back, rams it in and twists, then yanks hard, taking his spine out.

Anarchaia’s stomach gives a turn and she decides to spray a cloud of particularly hot flames over the group, putting any stragglers out of their misery within seconds. “Let’s just do this efficiently, please.”

As the group reaches the end of the bridge, a duo of doors open to reveal a large, armored man between two lines of pillars. “Oh? Challengers?” the man growls, drawing his sword. “Good. I’ll prove to be your first test.” He gestures at the doors behind his back with a thumb. “Defeat me, Hymdall, champion of Odyn, and I’ll allow you passage.”

 


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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“Sounds good!” Grimory rushes forward, leaping and slashing at Hymdall, but is parried by the huge sword.

Alisbeth stifles a shout, reminding herself of the bet before breaking it. She leaps forward at the huge man, dragging her hook across his calf. Deciding a little assistance couldn’t hurt, she raises her weapon and summons a huge abomination and six ghouls to aid in the fight.

Koltira stares at Alisbeth, confusion spearing through his mind. He blinks to reorganize his thoughts, then rushes to join the fight.

Juliember throws slow heals on everyone to keep their health steady. She smiles at the mage, then showers her with leaves.

Anarchaia flinches as a leaf flutters past her nose. “That’s really not n—”

A massive replica of the man’s sword materializes and spins at the Forsaken and she leans away, stumbling out of its cyclonic path. She curses quietly and runs to the other side of the room, casting short bursts of fire at Hymdall the entire way. Grimory does his best to serve as a distraction for the others.

Hymdall growls and swings his sword in a large arc, taking out most of Alisbeth’s minions, then slashes at Grimory’s body with the backswing.

“Thank me later,” the druid hisses under her breath, then concentrates on keeping the rest of them healed.

Alisbeth lunges backward just as a dragon sweeps by, covering the area in lightning and fog. She leaps forward, dropping her weapon and grabbing her tingling feet. She wants to cry out for the pain, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stands and swings her weapon around to hook into the huge man’s calf, then yanks to pull his leg out from under him.

Grimory gives a yelp of surprise as a blast of electricity hits him from behind. He scurries to an unaffected part of the room and turns just as the man falls with a groan of agony. The demon hunter scoops up the gigantic sword, his muscles straining. With all his might be hurls the blade directly at the man, but Hymdall manages to roll away and retrieve it again.

“Not quite!” the vrykul calls with a laugh.

Anarchaia hurls a large shard of ice at the man’s face. It shatters and he howls, momentarily blinded.

Koltira hooks the tip of Byfrost into Hymdall’s other calf and yanks it the opposite direction from Alisbeth.

“Look out!” Juliember shouts as a dragon swoops their way to breathe more lightning and fog across the walkway. She blinks forward as a tiger, then comes back up to continue throwing heals on them.

Alisbeth and Koltira dislodge their weapons and run for safety.

Anarchaia turns at the last moment to see the dragon flying toward her. She teleports a few yards to get to safety and hurls more shards of ice at their opponent.

Grimory growls as a jolt of electricity runs up his leg again and he stumbles back. The distraction is enough for Hymdall to slice the blood elf’s chest open with a upward slash as he struggles to free his legs. Grimory bites back a cry of pain and instead rushes forward to rip a gash in Hymdall’s forehead.

Alisbeth’s throat closes in frustration as she tries to get Hymdall’s attention without making any noise. She taps Koltira urgently on the shoulder and points at the injured demon hunter.

Koltira growls. “Juliember has heals under con—”

Alisbeth hits him.

“ _Fine._ You know, you’re really taking this silence thing—”

She hits him again and shoves him forward.

Koltira throws out a purple tendril to pull the huge man to him. It doesn’t work, but now his attention is on the death knight. Koltira readies himself for a hard hit. “You got me?” he shouts to the druid.

Juliember nods. “Of course I do!”

Grimory bristles as blood pours freely down his front. “I had it under control!”

Hymdall turns on Koltira and runs the front of his blade toward the death knight’s middle with a cry of determination.

Juliember throws everything she has on Grimory, including a generous Swiftmend.

Koltira throws red decay under Hymdall’s feet and growls at Grimory. “Stop trying to prove something!” With effort, the death knight parries, knocking the huge sword to the side. It instead slashes across Alisbeth’s middle and she falls to the ground as another dragon swoops in to drop lightning on top of them.

“I’m n—” Grimory gives an angry growl at the third wave of lightning. From the corner of his eye, he catches Alisbeth falling. He grits his teeth through the pain and leaps to her, swiftly picking her up and jumping again to safety lest she succumb to electricity.

Anarchaia summons the visage of a fiery dragon’s head above herself with a raised hand. She brings down her palm and the dragon’s mouth opens. Flames roar from between its teeth and wash over the vrykul man.

Hymdall stumbles backward out of the ring and shields himself against the fire with his arms. “All right! I’ve seen enough!” he yells as the fire subsides. He breathes heavily and wipes the blood from his eyes. “I…am bested. You may pass.”

Grimory ignores the man and beckons for Juliember’s attention, motioning pointedly for her to heal the woman in his arms.

Alisbeth reaches a blood-soaked hand up to Grimory and smears it across his face, shaking with the laughter she knows she must keep quiet.

Grimory scowls at Alisbeth but allows the smearing of blood on his face.

The druid approaches, using her healing touch to get the death knight’s wound closed. “War paint,” she says with a chuckle, observing the smears on Grimory.

Koltira runs over, kneeling to make sure she’s okay. “Ali, Gods, I’m so sorry.”

She waves a dismissive hand at him.

“I didn’t think you were close enough to get hurt.”

She leans closer to him, still waving her hand.

“I never meant—”

She shoves her hand over his mouth. Feeling much better, Alisbeth pops up to track down her weapon.

“It’s been, like, fifteen minutes, you know,” Grimory calls after her.

Anarchaia trots over to examine the huge vrykul man. “I’m sorry it got so violent. Are you okay? Can I help?”

Hymdall gives a deep, gravelly laugh. “Save your kindness, tiny mage. It’s wasted here. Go on. Leave me my pride.”

Alisbeth flicks the blood from her hook and stomps over to Grimory. She holds out a hand for her reward.

He blinks then chuckles. Reaching into the pouch behind his belt, he pulls out ten gold pieces and lets them pour into her palm. “You win.”

She throws the gold at him and shakes her head.

Koltira chuckles. “I believe the bet was two copper for five minutes.”

Alisbeth holds up two fingers and points at her palm.

Grimory gives her a sneer. “You gave us a bunch of money we didn’t want. Now I’ll do the same.” He stands, leaving the money on the ground. “Take it or leave it,” he says with a shrug and walks away, thumbs behind his belt.

Alisbeth growls and scoops up the money, then hands it to the druid, who pockets it happily, then drops two more copper into the death knight’s palm. Alisbeth puts the copper in her pack, then throws her hood back and unbuckles her helm to remove it. Koltira begins laughing uncontrollably. In her mouth, Alisbeth has stuffed three dalapenos. She spits them into her hand and smiles.

“You didn’t think I could do it, but I did it, and now you’re mad because you lost a bet and now I have two more copper and you _seriously_ don’t think I can shut up for five minutes I mean come on how silly is that? I am so good at being quiet. Gravity? _Hey, Gravity!_ Are you listening to me?” Alisbeth runs after Grimory.

Juliember furrows her brow. “That’s not his name…”

Koltira laughs openly. “Alisbeth seems to have trouble with names she didn’t know before she died. Ali, what’s our friendly druid’s name?”

Alisbeth smiles. “Jupiter! Hi Jupiter!” She waves at the troll, who raises an eyebrow.

“You get used to it,” Anarchaia mumbles as she passes, pulling her hood back over her head.

“You want me to say I’m impressed? Well _I’m impressed._ Not angry. Proud, even.” The demon hunter sticks his nose in the air. “Plus, I thought I’d made it pretty clear how I feel about losing bets.” When she catches up, he ruffles her hair now that he has the opportunity.

Hymdall and Anarchaia exchange glances. “You… _are_ champions, yes?” the man asks with a hint of disgust.

The mage gives an embarrassed shrug and slides off to follow her party.

Alisbeth giggles under his hand ruffling her hair. She jumps onto his back with some trouble due to her shirt, then gives up and slides back down to pull at his arm. “Hey! Hey! Bet me something else! Two copper. I have four now so I can afford to lose. Won’t make me a beggar in the streets. Nope!”

Grimory furrows his brow down at her. “You realize we could just give you your money back, yes?”

Alisbeth stops walking and pouts. “No you wouldn’t.”

Grimory turns to look at her. “Why wouldn’t we? Why do you insist we keep it so badly?”

She thinks as Koltira moves her forward by the arm. “Because you’re my friends. And because it pays for things. And because I want…to help.”

The druid smiles. “It be a sweet gesture, methinks.”

Anarchaia sobers at the back of their group. “We’ll keep it if it means that much to you, Ali.”

Grimory shrugs and presses onward with a grin. “You can always earn it back in bets.”

The death knight puts her helmet back on and raises her hood, using it more as a shield to hide her frown. _Why am I so bad at this?_

Koltira jogs ahead to Grimory to speak alone. “We need to work together, okay? No lone hero bullshit.”

The demon hunter shoots him an irritated glance. “I know how to do my job.” His fel-warped claws return with a rush of fire and he rushes ahead to the next group of enemies without waiting for a response.

Koltira glares as the druid tiger rushes past, popping up with a growl as she maintains his health. He grips Byfrost and runs into the fight. Alisbeth soon joins the fight, but unenthusiasticly.

After the party tears through enemies one pack at a time, they eventually come to the Halls themselves. A T-junction stops them as they enter, the corridors on either side lined with food-laden tables and ale. The path straight ahead, however, is barricaded with a door of lightning and steel.

“Which way?” Grimory asks, turning to look at the group over his shoulder.

Alisbeth sets her hook on the ground and spins it. After a few turns it stops, pointing to the right. “Does that work?”

Koltira chuckles. “I’d say that’s as good of method as any.”

“Good enough for me!” Grimory again takes off, running down the hallway and grabbing the attention of every enemy in sight.

Anarchaia gives a sigh of annoyance and runs after, once more summoning a blizzard to aid him.

Juliember growls. “How upset would everyone be if I let that idiot kill himself?”

“Hmm,” Koltira thinks about it. “I’m sure we’d manage…”

Alisbeth’s mouth drops open behind her helm and she gives a small cry. “No. Just, no,” she whines.

The druid smirks and winks at Alisbeth, then blinks forward into her tiger form to catch up.

“Yes, please don’t,” the mage murmurs from the back. “We may be able to revive everyone but the mental scars are permanent.”

Grimory makes short work of a runecarver before the man can heal his allies, then avoids an arrow sent from a ranger out of his reach.

Alisbeth jumps up to Grimory, miscalculating and bumping into his side. She smiles at him, again forgetting that her face is covered. A shadowy tendril reaches out and grabs the Ranger, dragging her to them. The ranger leaps backward out of their reach again. Alisbeth scoffs. “You bitch!”

Koltira stands behind her. “Ready your ice.” He pulls the ranger to them and Alisbeth freezes her feet to the ground, then works to kill her before the ice melts and she is free to bound away again.

Grimory gives Alisbeth an assuring grin and slices through another enemy.

Anarchaia sends forth a barrage of violet spears, each one crashing into an enemy. Behind her, however, another ranger steps forth from the shadows and takes aim. The arrow lodges itself into the mage’s shoulder, just below the collar bone. Anarchaia gives a cry of pain and surprise and instinctively covers the wound with a hand to hide the green liquid oozing from it. She turns and, with her free hand, hurls a flame in the shape of a phoenix at her assailant.

Koltira’s mouth drops open to a frown as he places himself between Alisbeth and Anarchaia.

Juliember reaches over to break the arrow’s shaft and yank it out, paying no mind to Anarchaia’s yelp. She tosses the broken wood aside and heals the wound without a word. She smiles at the mage and returns to her work to make sure everyone is healed.

She blinks up at the druid and rolls her shoulder to ensure it is, in fact healed.

Koltira runs over. “Are you alright?” he asks low.

Turning to Koltira, she gives a nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.” With an unseen smile, she scampers past him after Grimory and toward another swirling portal at the end of the hall. _He’s just being nice. As always._

Grimory skids to a stop when, after a blinding light washes over him, he realizes he’s standing in a lush forest of greens and yellows. A nearby stormdrake breathes lightning over a herd of yaks and deer; leaves flutter about and into a pond down the path. He admires the scenery and gives the others a moment to follow.

Alisbeth grins under her mask. “I like that dragon! A beast after my own heart. Let’s go capture it!”

Koltira appears behind her just in time to wrap an arm around her waist. “No, let’s stay together and stick to the plan.”

“Oh, but I wanted to see her get electrocuted. Let her go. Ten gold says she lasts five seconds.” Juliember laughs.

The mage narrows her eyes at the troll. “What did I _just_ say?”

Grimory gives a chuckle and shakes his head. “As much as I love carnage, let’s make this go as smoothly as possible, yeah?” He heads off down the path and engages the dragon from behind, slashing at the back of its ankle in an attempt to cripple it.

Juliember grins at the mage. “I did not say I’d let her die. Ever seen a bucking bronco?” She winks, transforms into a purple-furred doe, lowers her head and flings Alisbeth onto her back before galloping after Grimory.

“ _I’M RIDING A DRUID!_ ” Alisbeth screams excitedly. She leaps from the doe’s back and onto the dragon’s, then holds on for dear life.

“Gods dammit,” Koltira says, running after them.

Alisbeth goes flying from the dragon’s back and lands on Koltira. “Was that ten seconds?”

He lowers his brow. “No. Now go kill it.”

“Okay!” She jumps up and runs to join Grimory at the legs.

The demon hunter ducks beneath the dragon and positions himself beneath its belly. He buries his claws into the flesh between the thick sections and smiles as he’s showered with a cascade of blood.

Anarchaia simply passes up the group, knowing they’ll easily take care of the single dragon without her help.

Koltira stops, watching Anarchaia run away from the group. “Ana!” The dragon batters him with a wing, flinging him to the ground.

Alisbeth hooks her weapon into the beast’s neck to cut its esophagus in half.

Anarchaia turns at the sound of her name, then grits her teeth when she sees Koltira struck to the ground. She blinks to his side and kneels to help him up. “Are _you_ all right?”

The dragon gives a final groan of agony and falls, legs flailing one last time before it lies motionless in the grass.

Grimory gives Alisbeth a blood-soaked grin, resisting the urge to sweep her into a hug. “Nice job! That hook is super useful!”

Koltira shrugs and dusts himself off. “Just my pride. But we should probably stick together. We don’t know what’s in these woods and you’re the most vulnerable of all of us.”

Alisbeth lifts her face cover to grin at Grimory. “Isn’t it?” She throws it over a shoulder and poses dramatically. “And it looks amazing.” She leaps to sit side-saddle on the doe as it races past to stand near Anarchaia.

Anarchaia bristles but remains composed. “I appreciate your concern, but I know my way out of a tight situation. You had it under control. I was going ahead to scout.”

“Well don’t,” Grimory says as he passes, making his way down the path.

Koltira purses his lips at the demon hunter’s bluntness. “I don’t doubt that you can take care of yourself, I just think it best that we stick together, near the healer we took the time to hire.”

“Can we keep her?” Alisbeth calls, reaching down to stroke the lavender fur as the druid follows Grimory. Her mask falls over her smile with a metallic _clang_.

Anarchaia offers no response, but instead follows the druid. “That’s really up to her,” she chuckles, hands filling with fire as Grimory attacks a group of archers.

The druid shifts, throwing Alisbeth onto the ground. Unfazed, the death knight runs forward to help keep the archers from leaping away. Koltira joins at her shoulder and they work together, pulling and freezing the archers in place.

When the crowd is dead, Grimory steps forward to the encampment but stops when he sees a massive wolf feasting on the corpse of a yak. He hesitates. “Uh…is that thing next?”

The beast’s ears prick and it looks at the group. A moment passes before he gives a bestial howl and leaps forward, tackling the demon hunter under its massive paws.

Anarchaia throws a shard of ice at the beast and it turns its sights on her instead, lunging with jaws open.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Alisbeth shouts, hooking her weapon into its side and planting her feet. She digs her heels into the dirt, but is dragged along anyway as the beast focuses on the mage.

Juliember throws a shining aura around Anarchaia and prepares to heal any wounds instantly.

Koltira also tries to distract the wolf, leaping in front of it and shouting. It plows right past him.

Anarchaia swallows hard and backs away. “Regret.”

Grimory scrambles to his feet and sprints to the animal. His arms double in size, spikes poking through the muscle and skin. His eyes crackling ferociously, he utilizes his massive claws to grab the wolf’s unaffected back leg, pulling with all his might. “Look…at… _me, damn it!_ ”

The beast turns sharply and snaps at the two behind him, slaver spraying.

Alisbeth drops to her rear and looks up at the wolf. “Um…s’cuse me!” She runs to its side and rips her hook out of its flesh.

Without asking, Koltira grabs Anarchaia around the waist and moves her to a safer location away from the beast.

Grimory gives a snort of a laugh and dodges the animal’s flashing fangs as he rolls out of reach of its maw. “Ali, try to get him in the eyes!” He dodges yet another attack, the wolf coming at him fast enough to leave him no room to retaliate.

Anarchaia gives a frustrated noise as she’s swept away. “Koltira, really! Stop worrying about me!” She throws a ball of fire toward the wolf when she’s set down. “I told you I’m fine. I could have handled it.” She hurls a few more.

He points in her face. “When a creature that size comes for you, you run. _You_ froze. Stay back!” He runs forward to slash at the legs of the wolf in hopes of crippling it.

Alisbeth jumps up to hook the wolf in the eye. The ball bursts and the wolf cries out, shaking its head and knocking her away into a tree.

Juliember helps her up. “Anything broken?”

Alisbeth _hmphs_. “No. I’m fine.”

“Good jo- _aagh!_ ” Grimory commends, but is also knocked away and into a rotting fence. The thrashing beast takes off running down the path, deeper into the forest.

This time Anarchaia cannot contain her irritation. “You’re not my boss!” she hisses as he runs off, then covers her ears at the wolf’s cries of agony. Gritting her teeth, she follows the animal down the trail, avoiding the bloody paw tracks.

“My hook!” Alisbeth screams, shoving past Anarchaia to run after the animal at high speed. The druid follows, scooping her up again to ride her, but then screeches to a halt before a small pack of wolves.

Koltira’s brow lowers and he sneers at the emotion fluttering through him, which feels somthing like betrayal. “Fine,” he shouts behind her, “get eaten!” He clenches his jaw and waits so he can be the last in line chasing the beast.

Guilt pangs through the mage’s chest immediately after she turns. _Ugh! Grow up, Ana! This is why nobody likes you!_ She pushes past the druid and lifts both hands. A blue ring forms around the smaller animals, then, in an instant, they freeze solid, their eyes peering out from the ice in wild confusion.

“Thanks, Ana!” Grimory salutes her before running past and raking his claws into the frozen animals.

Alisbeth ignores the smaller animals and runs straight for the big wolf, determined to get her hook back.

“Ali, _stop!_ ” Koltira shouts.

She skids to a halt and turns back. “But, my hook!”

“We’ll get it! come help with these.”

With a pout she runs over, calling an abomination to help, since she is weaponless.

Grimory makes short work of one of the wolves and dodges the claws of another as it breaks free of its icy prison and lunges at him. Then again dodges a shard of violet energy as it sails over his shoulder and into the skull of another animal.

Anarchaia gives an innocent shrug and waves a hand. “Sorry!”

With no weapon, Alisbeth stands by Koltira, kicking at the head of the wolf he’s fighting. The abomination waddles over, pummeling the animal flat.

“Simon says: be a carpet,” the druid says, laughing as she weaves her spells as needed.

The mage swallows a disgusted groan from the back, then follows the party until they again come upon the great beast. The wolf, now blind in one eye, licks the blood from its paws and wounded back legs. Pity strikes through Anarchaia and she turns away when Grimory rushes the animal once again.

The Illidari’s claws rend through the wolf’s front shoulder, causing it to yelp and turn to snap at him. A fang catches Grimory on the forearm, leaving a deep puncture wound, and he grits his teeth but continues his attack.

Juliember throws the glowing aura on Grimory, then several heals to close the wound in his arm.

Alisbeth rushes forward and grabs onto her hook, one hand wrapped around the curling ram’s horns of the demon skull on the side, the other firmly on the handle as she kicked her feet, trying to yank it from the wolf’s eye socket.

Koltira rushes forward, one hand swinging his sword and the other trying to grab hold of Alisbeth.

Wanting to end this as quickly and painlessly as possible, Anarchaia takes a step back and looks to the sky. Seeing enough room between the trees, she lifts a hand over her head. Red and orange waves of magic circle her feet, kicking up dust and causing her robes to flutter.

Grimory barks a thanks to the druid, lurching forward to grab the animal by the jaws and steady it so Alisbeth can retrieve her weapon. His elbows quiver with the effort. _“Ali, hurry!”_

The hook comes free with a spatter of blood raining down on the death knight. She slides under him and hooks into his flesh. “His hide is too thick! I can’t cut him open!” She flinches at the giant paws stomping the ground around her.

“Guys, I advise you move!” the mage calls.

Not hearing, Grimory releases the beast’s jaws and jumps away as it snaps at him again. It turns and brings up a back claw to paw at the death knight beneath its belly.

Alisbeth twists her hook as the paw comes down, the curve digs into the animals paw and he howls in pain.

“Ali, move!” Koltira shouts. But she doesn’t hear him over the howling and she is trapped by the other paws.

Juliember clenches her jaw and prepares for the worst, focusing everything she has on the two.

Anarchaia gives a cry of panic and frustration. Her raised palm fills with fire and swirling white light. _I can’t hold it. “GRIM! CHAINS! NOW!”_

The demon hunter blinks back at her. His eyes widen and he scrambles to set his hands on the ground. “Right! Sorry!” A yellow circle slithers its way around the dirt and grass. A sigil glows within the center and from it spring chains; they wrap around the beast’s front paws and pull it toward the middle of the ring.

Anarchaia holds her breath and flicks her fingers in the slightest of ways. A flash pulses across the sky and, from the atmosphere, a small piece of debris slices through the air. It strikes the wolf between the shoulder blades. Blood and viscera and fire burst forth from the impact, causing Grimory to stumble backward into the grass. When the dust settles, all that remains is clumps of smoking fur and flesh.

Alisbeth curls into a ball to avoid the debris of the exploded animal. The druid blinks out of range as Koltira turns his back and ducks.

Once the pieces are done falling, Alisbeth jumps to her feet. “I _knew_ you were one of us!” She leaps over the animal chunks and bones to grab Anarchaia in an enthusiastic hug. “I’m keeping you forever! I _love_ this mage!” She places Anarchaia on her shoulder as she had in earlier days of their adventure.

“One of…huh?” Anarchaia stirs atop Alisbeth’s shoulder, the mana consumption making her dizzy.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

“You…exploded Fenrir,” a familiar voice echoes through the trees.

Grimory sits up. “Were we…not meant to?”

“It’s…not important. Your next trial awaits,” Odyn continues. “Hyrja waits for you in the west wing. Defeat her before facing your final challenge.”

“Come on, let’s take a short cut!” Alisbeth says, running off to the pond in the middle of the area. When her feet hit the water, a sheet of ice forms under her boots. She waits for the others to catch up before heading across.

Anarchaia gives a quiet chuckle. “I could get used to this.” She rests an elbow atop Alisbeth’s helm.

Grimory leaps into the air, gliding across the pond with relative ease. “Race you,” he calls with a grin, weaving around a tree.

“Don’t make me turn my laser-shooter at you! Pew-pew!” Alisbeth laughs and takes off running. “Archie! Shoot him from the sky! Freeze his wings!”

Juliember laughs, turning into a doe and this time tossing Koltira onto her back. He gives a small yelp of surprise, then holds on as she speeds across the water to pass the girls and race up the hill after the flying demon hunter.

“As much as I’d love to…” Anarchaia gives a shrug and a laugh.

Grimory sets himself near the portal at the back, admiring his nails as he waits with a cocky grin on his lips. “Been waiting ages,” he quips to the druid as she approaches.

Without hesitating, Juliember nips his arm with her cutting deer teeth and runs through the portal.

Grimory yelps and rubs at his bleeding elbow. “Rude!” he barks after Juliember before following her through the portal.

Alisbeth lifts her skirt in one hand, bunching it up to reveal shining plate legguards underneath. She growls as the other end catches on a bush. “Why did you let me change?” She sets Anarchaia down. “Go poof ahead and hit him for me.” She bends to untangle the cloth.

The mage blinks down at her, then gives another quiet laugh as she bends down. She breaks loose the twig holding Alisbeth. “It’s not a race,” she says with a smile, then turns to jog after the others.

Alisbeth picks up her skirt and holds it in both arms as she runs after Anarchaia. “Well it’s not a race now! We lost!”

Juliember waits on the other side of the portal, smiling as she leans casually against a table, sipping an abandoned mead and chewing a chunk of roasted fowl.

Anarchaia laughs. “Last place is still a place!” She leaps through the portal.

Grimory casually swats the mead from the troll’s hand as he passes, sticking out his tongue. He continues on to the other end of the hall.

Juliember laughs and follows, taking one last bite of the leg, then tossing it back onto the table. “You act like I bit you as a bear. Little baby.” She throws a heal over him so the wound will slowly close.

Alisbeth trudges through the portal and whines. “Wait for me!” She runs to catch up with the group.

“What can I say? I’m a sore winner,” Grimory shrugs and grins, then rushes to greet a group of armored women at the bottom of a stone stairwell.

Anarchaia chases after with a sigh. “This is exhausting. It’s a good thing my muscles don’t tire.”

“I could use a small break, to restore my own energy,” the druid says. “Maybe after this next challenge. That bird was good.”

“You’re just going to eat their food?” Koltira asks, running past to help Grimory.

“They’re dead. They don’t be needing it,” she retorts.

“I can conjure something for you,” Anarchaia calls from behind, creating another localized blizzard above the enemies.

Grimory struggles to claw through the women’s armor, but successfully knocks one to the ground. “Some real help would be appreciated!”

“And apparently I don’t count,” Koltira grumbles, knocking another woman to the ground.

Alisbeth leaps up beside Grimory. “Sorry! There was a thing. Had to—” She hooks a maiden around the neck and spins her around and around until her neck is cut through and her body falls to the ground, her head rolls to Anarchaia’s feet. “Sorry!”

Anarchaia scoffs and lowers her hand, causing the hail to subside. “I beg your pardon?! I—” She looks down as something heavy bumps against her foot. Her eyes widen and she takes a few steps back before turning and retching, though nothing comes up.

Grimory notices a man adorned in leather on the next landing, murmuring spells and lifting his arms as light encompasses them. He quickly leaps to him and breathes fire in his face in an attempt to interrupt his casting. It’s too late, however, and an explosion of gold and white fills the Illidari’s eyes, knocking him off the landing and down the stairs.

“You!” Alisbeth glares at the man. “Bileretcher! Bring him down!” An abomination stomps past and throws a hook around the man, then pulls him to where Alisbeth can start beating on him. She wraps a shadow around his neck to lift him from the ground.

Grimory sits up and rubs at his eyes, his head aching. He shakes his head and gets back to his feet, then leaps at the man when he’s lifted off the ground. He runs his claws through his middle and is satisfied at the sound it makes.

Anarchaia merely sends a massive orb of swirling ice towards the fray, then turns away from the carnage as it lazily floats on, freezing the enemies that wander too close.

Alisbeth runs up the stairs and sees a tall woman in golden armor. The woman readies her shield. “Wow, she’s so—”

“Move!” Juliember shouts, throwing out her aura.

“What?” The death knight turns, but doesn’t move. The next second a blast of searing light shoots from the shield to throw Alisbeth against the wall, her armor smoldering in patches. “Ow,” she squeaks.

“Ali!” Koltira turns.

“Don’t get hit by that!” She screams at him, he rolls out of the way. “It hurts. A lot.”

“Are you all right?!” Grimory calls over his shoulder, doing his best to sound more like he cares about the mission than for her safety.

The woman readies another beam and he grits his teeth, making sure to stand between her and the rest of his party. The light around her shield dissipates and she looks at it confusedly before taking a ball of fire to the face.

“You’re welcome,” Anarchaia drones, tired from her dry heaving. She throws another blast of fire over his shoulder at a second attacker.

Alisbeth doesn’t move as her injuries slowly heal. “Yeah,” she says airily, “totally good.”

Juliember throws a few more heals at the death knight. “Better?”

“Much.”

Koltira grits his teeth, fighting harder so he can get to Alisbeth to make sure she’s okay. Alisbeth, however, throws herself down on the steps dramatically, the back of her wrist on her mask like a damsel in distress. “My gear! My beautiful gear!”

“I know a guy who can fix it,” Anarchaia says down at her once the last enemy is downed and they have a moment. “He’s pretty good, too.”

Grimory sits at the top of the steps, breathing somewhat labored from the adrenaline and movement. He throws Alisbeth a playful, unenthused face. “Are you gonna live? Do we need to carry you out of here?”

Alisbeth pouts a little more. “I may need to be carried. This is an absolute travesty.” She gives a heavy sigh, then stands and unbuckles the scorched skirt, letting it drop around her ankles. Underneath she’s wearing a set of purple leg armor, with no pants underneath. Plate covers her front and rear over her underwear.

Koltira stares at her scantily clad lower half. “Uhh…Ali?”

“You hush! I couldn’t find the pants!”

Juliember chuckles. “And wearing other pants was completely out of the question.”

“It was. See, she gets it!”

The druid stares incredulously at the death knight, then shrugs and turns away to meet Koltira at the top.

Grimory flushes and turns away, suddenly growing serious. He clears his throat. “Let’s get a move on.”

Anarchaia glances ahead into the halls. Radiant light filters through pillars and a Valkyr woman sits atop a dais, guarded by two massive men in robes.

“Abracadabra, can you disappear my skirt for later?” Alisbeth shoves the scorched garment into the mage’s face.

Koltira raises an eyebrow at Grimory’s sudden change in attitude, but says nothing. I guess it’d be hypocritical to call him out for staring. He turns to stare at Alisbeth’s nearly bare legs again.

Juliember hits him on the back of the head. “Don’t make me splash you with water.”

Koltira glares at her, but turns to follow the demon hunter.

Anarchaia gives a curt nod, jealousy rearing its ugly head, but smiles and says nothing as she holds out her arms.

Grimory steps forward. “So, you two up next?”

The man on the left steps forward as well. “You will not interfere with Hyrja’s ascendance!”

“Guess so.”

Alisbeth runs forward and situates herself between Koltira and Grimory, her hook ready in her fists. “Both or one at a time?”

Grimory gives a shrug and runs toward the man on the left. “Not sure who you are but you’re first!”

“I am Olmir of the Storm!” the man booms, throwing lightning at the Illidari as if to prove this fact.

Grimory ducks out of its path and swipes at his legs, but is swiftly kicked away.

Anarchaia lifts her hands and summons beam of fire, aiming it at Olmir’s head. The man growls in pain and stumbles back.

Alisbeth and Koltira jump into the fray as Juliember stay dutifully behind. “Careful with that lightning,” the druid says.

The team makes short, easy work of both Olmir and his partner. From their two bodies raise spectral visages, calling words of encouragement to the massive Valkyr woman that steps down from the platform. “It is all right, friends,” she says, raising her spear. “This will not take long!”

Alisbeth giggles. “You’re right…it won’t.” She raises her bloodied hook and charges ahead recklessly.

“Gods dammit, Ali!” Koltira runs after her.

“If you die, I’m taking your pants!” The druid laughs, throwing heals at the death knight in preparation for the worst.

“There aren’t any to take,” Anarchaia mutters in a salty tone, throwing her typical blasts of fire.

Hyrja turns to Alisbeth and throws a shield of light up, then thrusts her spear out from behind it. “Small mortals! You know not what you interrupt!”

“We don’t care.” Grimory runs to the backside of the woman, behind her shield and safe from the spear. He rakes his claws against the armor at her back, then grits his teeth when he makes to mark. “Ugh. This fucking armor.”

Koltira and Alisbeth hook their weapons into the woman’s armor pulling hard to break it. Small bits bend away, but not enough to create an opening. They continue to pry, hoping to make a hole wide enough for Grimory to get his claws inside.

“Ayy, teamwork!” The demon hunter gives a thankful thumbs up and avoids a slash from the spear. He slides between Hyrja’s legs and quickly turns to run his claws through the woman’s leg, in the unarmored spot behind her knee.

Hyrja gives a groan of pain and falls to a knee. She thrusts her spear into the ground and the room fills with lightning save for a small bubble around herself.

Anarchaia immediately stops casting her spells and makes for the safe zone inside the shield, but is not quick enough. Electricity pierces through her and she falls to the floor, skidding some distance from her momentum.

“Ana!” Grimory makes to run for the mage, but Hyrja’s spear blocks his path.

She growls angrily down at him and raises it again.

Juliember blinks forward to the mage, grabs her hood in her jaw, and dashes back to safety. Once there, she gets back to her job of healing, glancing down at Anarchaia. “Are you okay?”

“Gary, get in here!” Alisbeth screams, waving her hands around.

“I…yeah.” Anarchaia gets to her feet and places a palm over her head. “Never been electrocuted before. Heh. Gotta say, not a fan.”

Grimory returns the growl and leaps onto Hyrja’s spear, effectively placing him inside the zone. He runs up the handle and throws a well-placed kick into the woman’s exposed jaw.

The storm immediately subsides and Hyrja swats the Illidari back to the ground as one would an insect. “I’ve had enough of you lot!” She turns, sweeping her spear across the floor, hoping to hit the rest of the group in one attack.

The druid blinks away and throws up her arms, little flecks of light raise from the ground to heal all of them as any damage is done.

Alisbeth jumps over the spear and runs around to Hyrja’s back to pry away more armor.

Koltira jumps too slow and catches the sweep across his shins, then is knocked end over end and to the floor.

Anarchaia blinks in the opposite direction of the oncoming spear, the blade missing her by inches. She throws numerous spears of ice into the woman’s chest, knocking her back slightly.

Grimory recovers and skids to Koltira’s side, extending a hand. “You good?” he asks, glancing between his fallen teammate and the enemy as the mage serves as a temporary distraction.

“Are my arms still attached?” He chuckles and stands, limping back into the fight until his wounds heal.

“I’ve got it!” Alisbeth shouts. She rips the entire back of Hyrja’s armor off and swings her hook into the exposed flesh.

“Good!” Anarchaia ducks out of the way of the spear as Hyrja twists in agony.

Grimory takes the opportunity as well, leaping up to dig his claws into her new weak spot. The valkyr cries out as blood pours from her wounds, leaking to the floor. She falls, the spear sliding across the floor with a screech.

Alisbeth pounces as the woman falls forward. She digs her hook into the flesh of Hyrja’s back, then yanks to cut her spinal chord in half. The woman falls, gasping as Alisbeth continues to dig into her back. She punctures a lung and Hyrja coughs blood onto the shining floor.

Anarchaia slinks back behind the druid to shield herself from the sight, a hand over her uneasy stomach.

Grimory gives a laugh as he watches. “I think you’re good, Ali. She’s not moving anymore.”

Alisbeth straightens. “Oh.” She steps off the woman, shoulders her hook, and skips away, whistling a happy tune.

Koltira purses his lips at Hyrja. “That got a little out of hand.”

“Just a bit,” the mage agrees, sauntering off after Alisbeth and swallowing her nausea.

Grimory shrugs and steps through the growing pool of blood. “I thought it was fun.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALiP now has a new permanent home at https://alipofficial.wordpress.com/   
> Please visit us there and join the fun! Don't forget to follow the blog to get instant notifications on new chapters!

Alisbeth runs over to Anarchaia and throws an arm over her shoulder. “Hey, so, are _you_ able to at least fix the burned cloth? Because I want my skirt back. The outfit just isn’t the same without it.” Her lips curve down into a frowning pout.

“I can’t repair anything that’s missing parts,” Anarchaia explains. “But like I said, I know someone who can repair it for you. I actually sent it there for him to look at.”

Juliember pats Koltira on the back. “It was a good fight. Your woman knows her way around weapons.”

He gives a tight lipped smile. “She is skilled, yes, but mostly she likes when things die.”

The death knight frowns. “I look bad, don’t I?”

Anarchaia sets a hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder and smiles. “Not bad. Just…vulnerable.”

Alisbeth grumbles. “It doesn’t _match_! I should have looked harder for the pants, I just wanted to be back in time. Sometimes I think the vault I have is too big. I mean, I have to keep the gold on one side and then all of my old clothes and weapons on the other side and then of course the fun things I’ve found in the world and just couldn’t bring myself to throw out—those are in crates at the back.” She sighs. “I should get rid of the gold to make room for more clothes. I mean there’s just _so much_ of it. What do I even do with all that?” As she talks she unwraps a candy cane and lifts her mask to pop it into her mouth. “Want one?” She holds out another one for Anarchaia.

The mage waves her hand to politely decline. “You could buy a mount.” She sobers. “…Oor a house in the woods.”

“You said you needed a rest?” Grimory asks as he comes up behind Juliember. “We can take a brief break if you need.”

The druid smiles down at Grimory. “You can’t be saying you’re not hungry looking at that feast?” she says in her broken Thalassian. She winks at him and races ahead as a tiger, then takes a seat and digs into an abandoned meal.

Grimory sets his hands on his hips and turns to wait. “Sloppy seconds don’t appetize me.” A beat passes and he purses his lips. _Not entirely anyway._

The druid turns, her face covered in food. “If the first be as sloppy as the second, I be seeing no difference!” She rips a drumstick from a bird in the center and hocks it at him. “Here, no one has been chewing on that one.”

Grimory turns back just in time to catch the food with little grace. “Since you insist.” He bites the leg in half and chews, bone and all. “What about you, Ana? You need a break?”

Anarchaia tilts her head in his direction. “Uh…no. I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

Juliember shoves the last of a berry pie in her mouth and nabs the candy cane from Alisbeth’s hand. “Peppermint be the perfect ending to a good meal.” She belches, finishes a mead, then tosses the mug to the floor and wipes her mouth. “Oh, look, that door be open.”

Koltira moves to the door and eyes the golden pathway. “I suppose we’ve passed the tests?” He steps a toe onto the translucent path and is suddenly transformed into a shimmering ball of light that zips up the path to a huge spire with a tall door.

“Kolty!” Alisbeth screams, reaching after him, but she stops on the edge of the platform and eyes the golden path.

Anarchaia’s eyes widen and she also stops at the edge of the bridge. “Fascinating.” She reaches out a hand to touch it, but, before she can, Grimory rushes past her and into the energy. He flies off as a similar orb of light to the other end.

Anarchaia straightens and fidgets with her hands. “This looks…unorthodox.”

“Woo-hoo!” The druid runs between the two and leaps into the golden energy. Her orb zips side to side on the bridge.

Koltira comes out on the other end, eyes wide as he regains his bearings, nerves screaming from the pain.

Alisbeth backs up and smiles at Anarchaia. “So, this has been really fun. Thank you for the adventure. Don’t die and I’ll see you at the end of all this!” She presses herself to the wall.

Grimory pops back up and stretches. “That was pretty cool, I guess.”

Anarchaia turns to Alisbeth. “Oh, no no no. I’m not going until you do.” She pauses, then holds out her hand. “Or we could go together.”

Juliember pops up with the other two. “That was fun.”

Alisbeth shrinks away and whispers, “I don’t want to be nothing.”

“Light isn’t _technically_ nothing,” the mage explains, hand still outstretched. “And look, they’re all back on the other side.”

She purses her lips and stares at the mage’s hand. “Don’t let go of me, okay?”

“I would never.”

Alisbeth grips Anarchaia’s hand and squeezes as tight as she can, then screams as they step onto the pathway. When they pop back up, she’s still screaming, this time in pain. She stops and glares. “No!” She points at the path. “No. No. _No!_ Never again!” She stomps past the others and into the tower, hoping for an exit, but only finds a single room with four men below a throne where Odyn sits.

Anarchaia stares at her shaking hands, then cranes her neck to look at the rest of herself as if worried she’s missing pieces. The pain in her core and limbs fades quickly enough for her curiosity to take over. “Fascinating,” she repeats, patting her face with her palms.

Grimory shakes his head. “You two are so easily spooked. Live a little.”

Anarchaia narrows an eye. “You live enough for the lot of us.”

Alisbeth waits until Grimory is near enough, then punches him in the shoulder. “I live plenty! I just don’t want to become nothing, okay? I’ve already done that. Not that you care.” She pouts and strides to stand across the room from him.

The demon hunter finches—more in surprise than in pain—and furrows his brow at her. _Oh, I don’t care, huh?_

Koltira smirks, pretending it’s not for the reason it is. “Nice choice in words.” He pats Grimory’s shoulder.

He turns an unamused glance at Koltira as he passes. “I didn’t mean it like that, obviously.”

Anarchaia trots ahead and opens her mouth to speak up at Odyn, then closes it again upon seeing four well-armored vrykul men in the shadows of the arena walls. She gives a quiet groan of tired irritation. “This certainly is a trial.”

Together, the five make quick work of the four champions, Juliember growing bored as none of her charges get any sort of injured; Koltira determined to finish fast; Anarchaia flinching at every frost bolt or fireball she sends at the vrykul; Grimory trying his best not to look at Alisbeth’s bare legs as he focuses on getting through this final challenge; Alisbeth beats the vrykul in a more violent way than necessary, imagining the faces of people who have aggravated her at one point or another: Thassarian, Mograine, that weird guy pacing the halls of Acherus that just rubs her the wrong way, and finally Grimory. But she doesn’t hit that one quite as hard, more to hurt him than kill him as she realizes the demon hunter has at least gained the right to live through any anger he causes her.

When finished, Alisbeth drops to her rear and cleans her blade with her index finger, using the blood to doodle on the shining gold and bronze floor.

“Well done, champions!” Odyn says as he stands. “As promised, here is your prize.” A glimmering shield of silver materializes before them. “The Aegis of Aggramar serves as a keystone to the Broken Isles. Surely it can serve of some use—”

“ _NO!!_ ”

Anarchaia leans her head back and lifts her hands. “Gods’ sakes, _what now?!_ ”

“I am God-King Skovald! I deserve the rights to the Aegis! Not these…puny mortals.” A massive vrykul man stomps his way to the center of the arena, leather and fur adorning his body and fel crackling in his eyes.

“These adventurers have earned their right to it, Skovald. It is theirs.”

The death knight on the floor furrows her brow up at the vrykul. “You’re joking, right? You _are_ joking…right?”

Skovald ignores her and continues to address Odyn. “If they do not surrender it in life, then they’ll surrender it in death.”

Alisbeth jumps to her feet. “Oh, thems fightin’ words! Come at me, bitch!” She leaps at him, digging her hook into his shoulder. He grabs her and throws her to the side. The plate of her armor shrieks against the polished floor.

Grimory growls as Alisbeth is hurled across the floor. He lunges forward, digging his claws into the man’s leg—protected only by boiled leather. Skovald kicks him away, pulling his gargantuan sword from his back.

Anarchaia bites her lip and rushes forward to grab the Aegis, intertwining her magic with that of the object to lift it with ease. “I’ll keep this safe!”

Alisbeth skitters back to her feet and rushes the huge man, leaping to his back once more. She jams her hook into his arm as he reaches for the mage, then rips to sever the muscles.

Koltira slashes upward to cut across the vrykul’s belly. “Grim, go for the throat!”

Skovald gives a roar of pain and defiance, kicking Koltira away and again making for Anarchaia and the Aegis. He nearly tramples Grimory in doing so, but the demon hunter leaps to the side, scrambling up the vrykul’s cape to get to his neck.

“ _The Aegis belongs to me!_ ” Skovald shouts through his agony.

Anarchaia shrinks back, then turns to dash away, blinking once then casting a spell of invisibility over herself and the relic. Koltira growls and chases after the rampaging vrykul.

Alisbeth works her hook into his chest. “We didn’t go through all this just to have your stupid face ruin it, you…stupid face!”

Juliember’s eyes go wide as he stumbles her way. She dashes away and runs around to stand behind him.

Skovald grabs Alisbeth from his chest and pries her away, tossing her to the floor and swinging his sword wildly around. “ _Show yourself, you faceless coward!_ ”

He makes a lucky strike, the tip of his blade slashing across Anarchaia’s shoulder blades and knocking her from her invisibility. She cries out and slides across the floor stomach-down, the Aegis skidding ahead of her. She makes to reach for it but the pain of lifting her arms is too great and she crumples back to the floor. _I’m so bad at this. I’m so sorry._

Finally reaching Skovald’s neck, Grimory plunges his claws into the exposed flesh between his helm and gorget. His nails explode out the other side in a rain of blood. Skovald gives a gurgle and claws at his gorget, ripping it off and tossing it aside. He tries to growl but blood oozes from his lips instead. He crashes to the floor, a hand on his neck and the other still reaching for the Aegis.

Alisbeth stays laid out flat, glaring at the ceiling as Koltira rushes to Anarchaia’s side, mostly providing a blockade from the others’ views. “You’re bleeding,” he mumbles.

“We’ve all bled,” the druid says over his shoulder as she heals the wound.

Koltira jumps, then looks back. “Discreetness would be preferable.” He catches himself, remembering her outburst earlier. “If, of course, Ana wants it.”

Anarchaia rises to her feet, exhaling slowly at the pain as her wounds heal. She rolls a shoulder and looks up at the death knight, frowning slightly at his wit. “If the attitude is caused by what I said earlier, I’m so—”

“Well done…again!” Odyn booms with a wide smile. “I must say the halls will be much quieter without Skovald’s demands for recognition.” He chuckles.

Grimory pants quietly and gives the god a thumbs up, then steps off Skovald’s bleeding corpse over to Alisbeth. He kneels and offers a hand. “You all right, Ali? You look salty.”

Koltira ignores Odyn for a second to purse his lips at Anarchaia. “Wasn’t an attitude.” He strides away from her, rather than offering to help clean the green blood from her back as he’d planned. _Good. It’s better she hate me._

Alisbeth throws her helmet to the side and pinches her face in anger, then shouts, “If I have to fight _one more_ thing to prove my worth, I’m going to go _crazy!_ ” She grumbles and takes Grimory’s hand.

Juliember nods at the screaming death knight. “I be agreeing with her. Please tell me we’re done.”

Anarchaia sobers, hurt spreading through her chest as the pain in her back subsides. _Ugh. He’s never going to forgive me… Not that I deserve it._ She pulls off her ichor-stained robes and folds them in such a way that the soiled parts are hidden, then lifts the Aegis again and approaches Odyn. “So we have your favor?”

The god nods. “Absolutely! Not only that, but your triumph here will ring in these halls for eternity.”

Grimory pulls her to her feet and chuckles. “Sounds like we’re good.”

“Not too battered?” Koltira asks as he subtly slips in to pull her away from Grimory and into his arms for a hug.

Alisbeth grips him. “I’m good! Jeeves had my back the whole time.”

Juliember chuckles. “I assume you mean me? I had all your backs.”

Anarchaia sighs and turns to her party. “Well. I guess congratulations are in order? Heh.”

Grimory lifts an eyebrow at Koltira’s behavior, but his ears perk at Anarchaia’s words. “Party?”

The mage blinks. “Well…I mean, sure? I was talking about the rewards, though.”

“There’s rewards?” Alisbeth asks. “Like…what kind?”

“I offered pay in my ad,” Anarchaia responds. “Though that was a month or so ago. Perhaps you don’t recall.”

Alisbeth frowns. “This is the end? But, I was having fun.” She pulls up her hood and turns to face the door to hide her tears.

Koltira holds up his hand. “I don’t feel right taking gold from either of you. Give our cut to Juliember.”

The druid perks at this. “I be saving to buy me one of those spiders I keep seeing around Dalaran.”

Anarchaia clenches her jaw at his coldness. “I… All right.”

“It doesn’t have to be the end,” Grimory says with a comforting smile and a hand on Alisbeth’s shoulder. “Unless you want it to be, that is.”

Koltira clenches his jaw at Grimory. “We came on for one mission.” _Ana would rather we be gone anyway._

Alisbeth frowns deeper at the other death knight. “But what if they have _another?_ ”

He gives a tight-lipped smile, but says nothing.

Anarchaia hesitates and spins the Aegis around slowly above her palm. “I mean…that’s kind of up to Master Khadgar. I’m sure he’ll have more for us to do. Whether or not you guys wish to come along is really of your volition.”

Grimory shoots Koltira a look. “So your only criteria for friends is based on if you’re on an assignment or not?”

The death knight flinches inwardly, but does his best to remain impassive. “I never said we weren’t friends. I just wonder how welcome we are in present company.” He stares at Anarachia for a long moment until it becomes uncomfortable.

The druid purses her lips. “Since I am not a part of this…whatever odd thing you four have, may I please take my payment and go? There’s a night elf waiting to try moonkin with me.” She gives a sly wink.

Alisbeth scoffs and grabs her helm from the floor, then stomps away from all of them.

The mage flinches outwardly as she catches on to Koltira’s meaning, nearly dropping the relic. “ _M-Me?!_ ” She places her free hand over her chest. “Why would you think that? Of course you’re welcome. I—” She pauses. “You’re my friends. I’d…be sad to see you leave.”

Grimory opens his mouth to contribute, then sees Alisbeth stomp off. “Wait, Ali! There’s no exit that way!” He follows.

Alisbeth hears Grimory, but ignores him, stomping right out to the Light bridge before she’s paralyzed in her tracks, unable to set foot on it again.

The demon hunter nearly runs into her, but catches himself. “Ali, what’s the matter?” He places a hand on her shoulder.

Alisbeth deflates and reaches up to push his hand from her shoulder, but instead she grasps it. She sniffles. “I just want to keep going. I want to stay with my friends.” She takes a shaking breath. “Don’t let him take me back to Acherus. Please.”

A soft frown falls over Grimory’s face and he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I promise he won’t.” He sighs. “Not sure what happened to you there, but I won’t let it happen again.”

Alisbeth leans into him and cries, for some reason feeling safe to do so. “I didn’t get to see sunlight or rain or thunderstorms. I laid in the dark and became stardust. And I was so alone. And I was nothing. I became nothing.” She wipes her glove under her nose. “Am I still nothing? Am I here? Or am I there? What are you? A dream?” She drops to the ground and hides her face in her palms.

Grimory furrows his brow upward, genuine sadness and pity flooding him. He kneels down and pulls a hand away from her face. “This _is_ real. All of it. All of _us_. What can I do to prove it to you?”

Alisbeth frowns at him. “You can’t prove it. That’s what happened with my other friends. They were just gone and I was still in my room and they wouldn’t let me out.” She wipes her face. “I don’t want to go back.”

Grimory gives her a smile. “So, to prove I’m real I just have to stick around forever and protect you? Sounds like something I can do.” He also wipes a tear away with the pad of his thumb.

Alisbeth smiles. “That could work.”

“Settled, then?” He grasps her hands in his to help her back up.

Alisbeth lets Grimory help her up, then throws her arms around him. “We’re gonna have so many adventures and kill so many things and it’s going to be the best time ever and you’re the best friend I ever had and we’re going to kill those forsaken!” She squeezes him as tight as she can. “Do you live forever? Because I don’t want you to die.”

Grimory gives a genuine laugh—airy but happy. “Technically I won’t die, no.” He chokes against the tightness of her hug. “So I’ll always be there.”

Alisbeth smiles. “Yay!”

~ * ~

Koltira eyes the waiting druid. “I’m sure she would like payment and maybe a portal.” He doesn’t move, but fixes his gaze on the mage. _Just one minute to talk in private,_ he thinks.

Anarchaia deflates, the palm at her chest coming to her side and filling with a hefty bag of gold. Without a word, she outstretches the same arm to her side, a large, swirling portal materializing at the end of her fingers. “Your assistance was greatly appreciated,” she mumbles to the druid. “May we meet again someday.”

Juliember takes the reward and smiles. “Anytime you be needing a heal, just send word to the Dreamgrove. Save you from having to hire a drunken monk.” She pats Anarchaia on the shoulder. “Plus you four be…fun.” She waves to Koltira and hops through the portal.

Once the troll is gone, the death knight glances behind to make sure the others are out of hearing range, but he whispers anyway. “Do you want me gone? Is that what this is?”

Anarchaia’s eyes widen and, taken aback, she scrambles for words. “Of course not!” she responds in a hushed yell, then lowers her voice as well. “Why would you think that?”

“Ever since we walked into this place you have rebuffed my attempts to help you. To…protect you. What should I think of that?” He releases an airy sigh of frustration. “I…don’t want to leave your company. But if you want me to go…”

“ _I don’t want you to go._ ” The words fall from her mouth before Anarchaia has a chance to rethink them. She swallows. “I…thought you were just protecting me because you thought I was incompetent. It’s why I snapped at you. I-I’m sorry…”

“You’re _not_ incompetent.” He scratches behind his ear and growls. “Okay, I get pushy, I know. But it’s only because I…”

“No,” Anarchaia groans, not allowing him to finish. “I’m definitely more immature than you are pushy. It’s something I’m told constantly, but still struggle with.” She sighs. “I’m sorry.”

Koltira clenches his teeth and stares at the floor. “Let me protect you one last time. This… Us—all of us… We need to go our separate ways. Ali can’t know about you and she can’t know about us. I think it’s for the best.”

Tears sting Anarchaia’s good eye and she bites her lip. She fights them back, having expected this. She opens her mouth to protest, but reason takes over her tongue and she closes it again. She nods solemnly. “…Okay.”

Koltira holds back saying ‘Never mind, I’d rather stay in your company,’ because he knows it’s the best course of action. He holds out his hand. “Friends, though, right?”

Anarchaia swallows and gives his hand a halfhearted shake. “Friends,” she responds with a smile in her voice but a frown on her face. _It’s for the best…but it hurts. You don’t belong with him. Stop crying. If he sees you crying he’ll know…_ Not being able to hold back, she retracts her hand. “I-I’ve got to get this to Master.” She swallows a sob.

“Right.” Koltira turns away from her to see Alisbeth gripping Grimory like she means to snap him in half. “Ali!” he calls, his voice echoing from the vaulted ceiling.

She peers around Grimory to smile at Koltira. “Let’s see what adventure we’re going on next!” She takes his hand to drag him back into the room.

Grimory allows himself to be dragged. “Hopefully something with lots of violence,” he muses.

Anarchaia merely stands, maintaining the portal for when the others require it and doing her best to remain stoic.

“Where are we going now?” Alisbeth asked excitedly.

Koltira remains impassive. “Home.” He opens a death gate and holds his hand out to her.

She hides behind Grimory. “No!”

The demon hunter bristles. “She doesn’t want to go back to your creepy, floating ziggurat.”

Koltira purses his lips. “This doesn’t concern you, Grimory. Alisbeth has been away for a long time and she needs to go back.” He beckons her over. “Ali, before Mograine comes for us.”

She frowns. “Did he say something?”

Koltira decides to lie. “Yes. He said if you go back and behave, you can leave for more adventures.”

Grimory narrows his eyes. “Whether or not it concerns me, Alisbeth still has a will of her own and can make her own decisions.”

Anarchaia fidgets. “Grim, we have to go.”

The Illidari scowls. “Hold on a minute. I’m not letting anyone push Ali around anymore. She deserves a say.”

Alisbeth steps around him. “I’m sorry. I have to go.” She raises onto her tiptoes to hug him. “Bye, Grim.” She runs through the gate before anyone can see her crying.

Grimory stares after Alisbeth for a long time. _She remembered my name._

Koltira’s jaw tenses. “I’m not pushing her around. It was nice to get to know you two.”

Anarchaia turns her head away in response, but says nothing.

Grimory balls his fists in annoyance when Koltira’s voice snaps him back, then folds his arms. “Yeah. You, too.”

“Ana…” Rather than finishing his sentence, he steps through the gate and it disappears in his wake.

~ * ~

“He gave you a _keystone_?” Khadgar asks incredulously as his apprentice hands over their prize. He studies the blue runes etched over the relic, then glances down at Anarchaia. “I… Wow. Color me impressed.”

The undead girl gives a small smile up at him. “I guess we did a good job?” she replies, wear and somberness apparent in her voice.

“You did a great job.” He places a hand atop her head. “This can go in the vault below the city, with the other keystones that have been recovered.” Khadgar’s eyes twinkle with excitement. “Soon we’ll have the power to stop the Burning Legion—and then some.” He looks down at her and smiles. “I’ll be certain to put in a good word for your friends, too.”

Anarchaia cocks her head and gives a sarcastic grin. “Even Grim?”

“Even Grim.”


End file.
